


The New Rulers

by SovereignChild



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (the three previous tags also apply to Harry's sibling), Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Canon-Typical Violence, Children in Dangerous Situations, Found Family, Harry Potter Has a Sibling, Hogwarts as Family, Independent Harry Potter, Multi, Non-graphic mentions of child molestation, Past Child Abuse, Powerful Harry Potter, Slytherin Harry, Telepathic Bond, because the adults are useless tbh, children preparing for war years in advance, rag-tag groups of characters who all find each other, scary smart kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-10-29 21:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SovereignChild/pseuds/SovereignChild
Summary: Harry and Heather Potter grew up without the knowing about the prophecy written about them, or the inevitable war they would be forced to become a part of. But when the children learn the truth about themselves, even more questions arise, even as they quietly celebrate this wonderful news. A letter to Petunia Dursley from Albus Dumbledore tells them more, and naturally the children are furious. In some ways, it also leads to more questions than answers: how could their aunt keep from them the fact that her own sister, her brother-in-law, had been murdered in cold blood? Why had a school headmaster been in charge of their future? Why hadn’t someone else told them the truth? Why didn’t any of the witches and wizards in the world know how the Dursleys treated them?No matter the reasons, the twins formulate a plan. Now aware of their powers, the twins become a force to be reckoned with. The more they learn about their new world, the more certain they are that something has to be done – and it’s their responsibility.A plan arises, a scheme is devised; Witches and wizards everywhere are being protected by two children.And that's just the beginning.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! To be honest, this is my first time really posting on of my stories on here, and this has been my labor of love for over a year now. Before you continue, I need to warn you that this story deals with the abuse and neglect of children in the first few chapters (though it'll still be mentioned off and on later), and a bare-bone description of child molestation. I went into as little detail as possible with the later, but please be cautious.
> 
> This story started with the idea of twin Potter siblings and the thought of a 'Slytherin Ruler', which will be explained as time goes on. The basic premise is this:
> 
> Twins Harry and Heather Potter put on the biggest act of the century and fool the entire wizarding world. They infiltrate Slytherin house, not to enact revenge for their parents, but to protect children - which they don’t see themselves as, honestly, since they were forced to grow up fast. Only a select few people know their real plan, and the real endgame. In time, they'll amass a rag-tag group of friends and nearly-family, creatures and enchanted items, portraits and secret contacts - all with one simple goal:
> 
> Protect the children, and win the war.
> 
> //  
> 5/14/2018 - All chapters are being edited and re-uploaded at the moment. A new chapter should be out soon!

*

_Let me be your ruler_

_You can call be queen bee_

_And baby I’ll rule…_

*

**PREFACE:**

“ _Potter, Harry!”_

_A pause. Wide eyes fixed at the front of the room. Nervous anticipation from the staff. Excitement from the students._

“ _We’d like to be sorted simultaneously, please.” A gentle demand, but a demand no less, from the black-haired girl who stands even with her black-haired brother at the front of the line of first-year students. They stand in identical poses, hands together in front of their bodies, almost as if at some sort of military rest, their backs and legs tall and straight, not slouching or relaxing, though their faces wear the slightest hint of smiles…or perhaps nervousness. It was impossible to tell._

“ _Er – well – I’m afraid…that simply isn’t possible, Mister and Miss Potter. You see, the Sorting Hat is, well, it is only made for one.” A stutter, confusion, this is not at all what she expected, though she had tried to expect nothing, and it shows. The students are whispering, the staff look nervous, this isn’t going right at all, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen –_

“ _We insist,” spoken together, firmly, but still politely._

_More confusion. A glance to the head table. The headmaster is frowning, as baffled as she is. She looks back at the two small children in front of her – and aren’t they a little too small for their age?_

“ _It’s – it’s just impossible! The hat is, you understand, a mind-reading device. That is how it sorts you. It cannot read two minds at once –”_

“ _It won’t need to,” A reassurance from the black-haired boy as they step forward._

“ _We’ve got this little trick, you see,” says the girl, and together they reach out and pick up the hat, position it so that it just rests on each of their heads by its brim, and close their eyes. Their hands are clasped together between their sides, and the Great Hall is, for the first time, silent as a grave._

_| Well, if it isn’t – | A cheery greeting. A pause._

_| Oh. How very interesting indeed. I’ve never done this before. That is certainly a neat trick you have there. | Shock and delight come with understanding; a great sense of being impressed._

‘ _Thank you.’ The girl thinks._

‘ _We’ve been able to do it our whole lives,’ explains the boy. ‘Only we didn’t know that it was, you know, magic–’_

‘ _Until just a few weeks ago.’ His sister finished._

_| Indeed? Well, I’m glad to see you both. Harry and Heather Potter, my goodness – your parents would be very proud about this little plan you’ve laid out in your heads here. Got it all figured out, do you? |_

‘ _We hope so.’_

‘ _Do you think it will work?’_

_| I’m sure it will, providing you continue on the way you have been – at least in front of most of your classmates. Merlin’s beard, you even intimidated me! | More shocked impression, a slight sense of vexation. Around them, the hall is still dead silent, no longer with anticipation but with confusion. (The other students are barely breathing. They are all thinking nearly the same thing: “This just doesn’t happen. Who are these children?”)All eyes are on them, just as predicted, just as planned, just as it needed to be._

_A sincere reply:‘Thank you.’; they don’t get many compliments. Or, at least, they hadn’t_ before _._

_| Oh…but…what’s this? A – a barrier? A shared barrier? Occlumency – shared Occlumency, and at your age? | Growing fear, growing wonder, growing curiosity, growing concern, for two people no one had ever cared for before their eleventh birthday._

_A hesitation. The boy finally answers:_

‘ _Apparently.’_

_| But...why?| The hat sounds rather hurt, and the children felt badly. The hat was one of the first…well, beings, for want of a better word, that had ever been kind and honest with them._

‘ _We’d rather not discuss that, sir.’ Heather says gently._

‘ _It’s private, you see.’_

‘ _We heard about Dumbledore’s habits of peaking into minds and, well…’_

‘ _We thought it would be smart to keep our plans out of his head, for the most part.’ The boy ends the explanation. He hears a cough out among the students, but otherwise continued complete silence._

_| Well yes, I’ll agree with you there – the old coot does more meddling than is good for him or anyone else, thank Merlin he can’t read me or any of the children I’m currently sorting – but why with me? | The hat is nearly pleading now, and the children rush to reassure him._

‘ _They’re hard to just put up and down at first, you see…’ the girl says of the Occlumency barriers._

‘ _And…well…’ her brother cannot finish. She does instead._

‘ _There are some things we’d rather no one know.’_

_| Oh. I see. |_

_The hat still sounds hurt, and not a small bit concerned, but concedes._

_| Hmm, alright then, let’s see here. Oh, this is already the hatstall of the decade. Perhaps the century. Tongues will be wagging. |_

‘ _Good.’ The children think together._

_| Indeed. Now, you two could easily fit in at any house, but as I’m sure you know by now – |_

‘ _You take into account our opinions.’_

_| Yes. And for your plan to work, you can only be in one house. Therefore, I’ll of course have to say – | A deep although unneeded breath that somehow comes through even in thought:_

“ _SLYTHERIN!” the Sorting Hat cries, and the Potter twins allow smirks as they take the hat down and hand it to Professor McGonagall, who takes it with frozen hands, her eyes unblinking._

_The hall is silent for another moment. Then:_

“ _What?!” screams a child from one of the tables._

“ _Did I hear that right?” whispers a girl with blue on her robes._

“ _He’s joking, isn’t he?” says a red-haired Gryffindor boy._

“ _First the Longbottom kid and now this?” an older student cries._

_The hall is chaos; half the student body is too stunned to speak, some are whispering or talking urgently to one another, and a few are outright yelling. The staff itself is not much better, either wide-eyed and silent or speaking urgently to one another._

“ _Pardon me?” the deputy headmistress manages, looking at the old hat in her hands as she raises it to eye level._

“ _Slytherin, Minerva. I said Slytherin and that’s what I meant.” The hat says rather defensively._

“ _But – but these are the Potter children!” is all Professor McGonagall can managed to sputter out._

“ _Yes, and they belong in Slytherin house,” says the hat loudly over the chaos. The students quiet a bit._

“ _Dear Hat, are you certain–?” a soft, seemingly kind voice intones from the head of the staff table, and the hat interrupts him._

“ _I am an expert at sorting, Albus. I have been doing it for hundreds of years. I haven’t been wrong before.” The hat says haughtily._

“ _I suppose not…” the headmaster concedes, looking, for once, at a loss for what to do._

“ _Well…very well, then…You two may–” Professor McGonagall began, but the two Potter siblings were already across the hall and making room for themselves at the silver and green Slytherin table._

_And by making room, I mean that they were shoving students out of the way to make spots for themselves in the very middle._

“ _OOF!” Marcus Flint cries as he’s shoved off his bench, followed by Selene Davis, who cries,“Hey!”_

“ _What?!” says another student, and yet another adds,“Hey firstie, who do you think you are?” as Harry and Heather Potter sit down at the exact middle of the Slytherin table. Marcus Flint stands, looking ready to hit them._

“ _Your kind doesn’t come to the middle of the table, and they don’t push us around!” he says, and Heather waves her hand through the air in a short swipe that makes Flint stagger backwards. Everyone is silent in the hall again._

“ _New rule,” Harry says, grinning._

“ _We sit here now,” adds his sister._

“ _But you can sit_ by _us, if you want.” Harry smirks as he speaks, and heads turn from the Potter twins to the once-king of Slytherin house, Marcus Flint._

_A pause…then Flint stomps to the other end of the table, followed by Selene and several others._

_The Potter twins nod.“That’s better.”_

…

“ _Apparently the school has some new rulers on its hands, Severus…” says Professor Vector at the front of the room, her brown eyes still wide from the shock of everything she had just seen. Even after a rather unexpected letter she had received little more than a month prior, she still hadn’t quite been expecting such a thing._

“ _Yes, Septima, and I don’t think they are the kind to be trifled with…” says Professor Snape, impressed enough by the actions of the two children to allow a slight smirk._

_At the Slytherin table, Harry and Heather Potter smile with satisfaction at the duly impressed looks on the faces around them, and then they return their attention to the front._

_They have to listen carefully and watch closely now. After all, they have an army to build and a school full of children to protect._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2018 - All chapters are being edited and re-uploaded at the moment. A new chapter should be out soon!


	2. Chapter 1: An Introduction and the Day the Letters Came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you guys for the kudos! I have several chapters already done, so here you go - one day later!  
> Again: warnings for brief mentions of child molestation - and canon-typical child abuse and neglect. Just be cautious here :) ]

*

_See I was born a restless child_

_And I could hear the world outside calling me_

_And they saw trouble in my eyes_

_The were quick to recognise the devil in me_

*

**Chapter 1: An Introduction and the Day the Letters Came**

“Good luck, Harry and Heather Potter.”

There was a soft _swish_ , and the man who had spoken was gone, leaving two very precious bundles on the doorstep of the place they would be forced to call home for the next nine years, eight months, and twenty days.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive under the inky blackness of the suburban sky. Every house looked alike, every hedge was neatly trimmed, and all the lawns were neatly accented with flowers and small trees. The neighbourhood was as ordinary as any in the country – or, indeed, the world at large. Nearly boring in appearance, Privet Drive – and particularly the house at Number Four – was the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen.

Harry Potter rolled over inside his blanket. Heather Potter squirmed, her sleeping body fighting the tightness of the swaddling, trying to move around a bit, before giving up and relaxing once more. Neither woke.

Two small hands closed on the letter in between them, fingers clumsily falling over each other in a subconscious attempt to hold hands as they had once done in their mother’s womb. Together, they began to dream the same dream; of their first birthday in July, when their father had given them each miniature broomsticks, which they zoomed around on a few feet above the ground, giggling and squealing while their laughing parents chased after them.

Still they slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours time by their aunt’s scream as she went to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley.

They couldn’t know that at this very moment people meeting in secret all over the country were raising their glasses and saying in hushed voices, “To Harry and Heather Potter – the children who lived!”

 

 

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number 4 that rested on the Dursley's front door, and crept in their living room, which was almost the same as it had been on the night when Harry and Heather were placed on the stoop. Only the photos on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been a lot of pictures of what appeared to be a large pink beach ball wearing different coloured hats, but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at a fair, playing a computer game with his father, and being hugged and kissed by his mother. There was one family portrait for every year Dudley had been alive – eleven at the moment, though a twelfth would join them soon – with a grinning Dudley, beaming Petunia, and smirking Vernon in each one, all dressed in complementary outfits.

There were no pictures of the two other children who lived in the house.

The room held no indication that there were, in fact, a pair of children named Harry and Heather Potter living in the home. The tidy, put-together living room did not indicate that horrible things happened in that house. The sparkling kitchen did not reveal that two of the home’s occupants went without food more often than not. The clean and well stocked bathrooms didn’t show that strange things that seemed almost like magic happened in that ordinary home. The wallpapered hallways, polished staircase, and organised closets told nothing of what had happened to the sister and brother-in-law of Petunia Dursley.

And lastly, the four bedrooms – of which only two were occupied – did nothing to indicate to the casual observer that things were very wrong in this home, and yet they were.

Indeed, Albus Dumbledore had not examined all angles when he placed the children named Harry James and Heather Calla Potter in the care of this family, for not even the man who coined the phrase “For the Greater Good” could allow this sort of treatment towards any children, let alone the ones that the Wizarding World called ‘The Children Who Lived’.

….Could he?

\----------------------Life with the Dursleys: A Summary-------------------

_On Dudley:_

Dudley’s only consistent exercise was hitting things.

Their cousin had been encouraged from an early age to do as he wished to Harry and Heather. He would kick them, punch them, chase them, and encourage his friends to do the same. Dudley threatened anyone at their primary school who even tried to be friendly with them, and most seemed to agree that it wasn’t worth the effort.

Dudley and his gang liked to break Harry’s glasses, lift up Heather’s skirts and say nasty things, rip their school bags, force them up high places and then push them off, and take their jackets away in the wintertime – and these were only their favourite activities.

The twins had both broken many bones, but had only been allowed to go to hospital for a few of them, and the doctors always seemed to believe Aunt Petunia’s speeches about what troublemaking daredevils they were.

Sometimes, during the twins’ longer punishments, Dudley would take to eating and drinking near their cupboard, chewing and slurping loudly as he did so. He also took pleasure in somehow making sure both bathrooms were occupied when the twins were let out twice a day to do their business.

Harry and Heather couldn’t wait for the day that they could give their cousin a taste of his own medicine. They had fought back once, and only once, because the punishment for Dudley’s bleeding lip and scant bruises was worse than anything he and his gang had ever done. In fact, they had to stay home from school for two weeks ‘with the flu’ to recover enough for no one to become suspicious when they went back.

However, one day they would make sure Dudley got what was coming to him.

 

_On Petunia:_

Nothing pleased Petunia.

They could cook breakfast and do all the chores perfectly, and it wouldn’t matter. If they moved one toe wrong, however, they would find themselves slapped, hit, and/or thrown in their cupboard without meals.

Mostly, though, Petunia liked to pretend they didn’t exist. Unless she was ordering them to do something or punishing them for one incident or another, she ignored them completely, her eyes passing over them in a room as if they were ghosts or pieces of furniture.

Petunia Dursley was the first to suggest that the twins move into the cupboard. They had been sleeping in the living room, first in Dudley's old crib, and then in his old playpen for a time. That way, they were far enough from their aunt and uncle not to disturb them in the night. However it soon became clear that even the playpen was too small for the growing four-year-olds (little did the Dursleys know that they had learned how to sneak out of their cages long ago to find food in the kitchen at night), and when Vernon grudgingly suggested Dudley’s second bedroom or the guest room, Petunia turned her nose up and replied that both were far too good for them. Soon after, the cupboard underneath the stairs was emptied, a large cot was bought, and Harry and Heather were moved it.

Petunia was also the one to tell them where their similar scars came from; both of the twins had wounds in the rough shapes of lightning bolts on their faces. Heather’s went from her hairline on the left side of her face down over that eyebrow and nearly to her eyelid. Harry’s was on the right side, and smaller, closer to the middle of his face. While his was still red as if newly healed, Heather’s was a raised flesh-coloured ridge of tough skin like scar tissue typically was. According to their aunt, they had received these scars in the car accident that killed their parents.

Harry and Heather couldn’t count how many times they had begged their aunt to tell them their mother and father’s names, but she refused. As punishment when they asked, she would often sit them down and tell them about their parents and what horrible, nasty, drunken freaks they were.

Harry and Heather eventually learned not to ask.

It was a cold day in March, just months before our story truly begins, when Harry and Heather happened to overhear their aunt and uncle talking….

“…want them going off to _that place_ like those freaks.”

“Perhaps they’re not that much like their parents, dear. Maybe we don’t have a thing to worry about!”

“Bullshit,” their uncle spat, “They’re the spitting image of _James_ and _Lily_ Potter.”

The rest of the conversation hadn’t mattered to the twins, for their eyes locked and they beamed at one another, going back to their cupboard happily for the night and no longer caring about the empty bellies they had been up to sneak food for.

 

_On Vernon:_

I won’t go into much detail. In fact, I’ll just give you the bare facts.

They were four the first time it happened.

Petunia had gone to Dudley’s school conference while Dudley himself was at a friend’s house for the night. Vernon kept barking at Harry to bring him more scotch – not unusual – but this time Petunia wasn’t there, and so Uncle Vernon didn’t feel the need to limit himself. Slowly but surely, his demands became kinder and kinder. Harry and Heather had looked at each other, confused, but slowly started to relax, thinking that perhaps they had done something right this time. Or that, at least, it would be a good night.

And then he invited Harry to sit in his lap (which none of the Dursleys ever did; hugs, kisses, and the like were banned for the Potters, because the Dursleys despised touching the twins, unless it could hurt them, and made no secret of it), and after that night nothing was ever the same again.

 

\--------------------------------------------*---------------------------------------

 

\--------------------------- _The Day the Letters Came_ \--------------------------

It was a cooler-than-average Wednesday in mid July that seemed, at first, completely ordinary. The wind whipped the trees around and blew away the grass that Mr. Number 8 was trimming. Many mothers throughout the neighbourhood thought this was the perfect day to go out to the park with their young ones – it wasn’t as oppressively hot as usual, and the wind and lack of humidity made it quite comfortable outside.

Mrs. Dursley of Number Four had promised to take her son Dudley to the park later that day as well, after his pleading and nagging all morning, so that he could ride the racing bike he had gotten recently for his birthday (he wasn’t allowed to ride it on their street anymore, due to having knocked down their elderly neighbour, Miss Figg, while she was out with a broken leg on her crutches; this was one of the rare times when Dudley was not allowed to do something). Petunia had even grudgingly said that her niece and nephew would be allowed to come along as well (“What harm can it do, I suppose…but you two had better be on your best behaviour.” she had sighed), so everyone _knew_ she must have been in an exceptional mood.

Harry and Heather Potter had even been allowed to have a larger-than-normal plate of food to share…toast, eggs, bangers, mushrooms, tomatoes, bacon – the works, and made by their aunt this time rather than them, because, as Uncle Vernon had said this morning, “I don’t want those nasty brats screwing up the food today. I have a big meeting at noon, you know, and I want something that’s decent. We’ll probably miss lunch, so it has to be more filling than usual.”

(Harry and Heather had never ‘screwed up’ any of their relatives’ food before, and Vernon's meals were always extremely filling, as evidenced by his rotund figure, but that was beside the point).

It retrospect, they should have known it was too good to last.

While Dudley utilised his new cane (he was attending his father’s old school come the fall – Smelting’s – and every young boy there carried a long stick, which they used to hit each other when the teachers weren’t looking) as a fork and Vernon and Petunia talked about the neighbours and Vernon's co-workers, Harry and Heather traded food across their plate. Mushrooms to Heather, bangers to Harry, bacon to Heather, tomatoes to Harry.

The fragile peace was interrupted by the click of the mail flap and Vernon's voice shouting, “One of you had better get the mail!”

Harry and Heather shared a look, then stood up together and left the kitchen. They didn’t like to be apart around the Dursleys if they could help it; luckily they usually could.

As they were walking down the hall to the front door, Heather poked Harry in the arm to get his attention, then mimed stuffing fistfuls of food in her mouth like their cousin did. Harry had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. They weren’t out of earshot yet. In turn, he put a finger over his lip to mimic a moustache and puffed out his stomach as much as he could, then mouthed something soundless and angry–looking, pretending to be their uncle. Heather nearly turned blue from holding her breath.

The Dursley family looked completely different from the two Potter children, which Harry and Heather secretly loved. This way, whenever they were all out together (which, in itself, was pretty rare), people seemed to group them separately, as if Harry and Heather were apart from their relatives and therefore not responsible for their often horribly rude and disgusting behaviour.

Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley all had white skin with pinkish undertones. Vernon was a very fat man with no neck to speak of, and black hair with a matching moustache – all properly groomed, of course. Petunia was a thin woman with twice the usual amount of neck (useful for spying on the neighbours), neat blonde hair always done in the latest and most popular conservative suburban styles, blue eyes, and a beak-like nose. Dudley took after his father in size, but had his mother’s watery blue eyes and blonde hair that lay flat on his fat head. Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a little angel. Harry and Heather said he looked like a pig in a wig.

As different as they looked from their family, Harry and Heather looked very much like each other.

Besides the fact that they shared the similar lightning-bolt shaped scars on their foreheads, they were both also very thin and bony, with darker, more olive-toned skin than their relatives. They both had messy black hair, but Heather’s was very long and curly while Harry’s was short and stuck up all over, especially in the back. Heather had grey eyes, while Harry had bright green, and Harry wore glasses but Heather did not. They both had the same medium-sized noses (slightly crooked from all the times they had been broken), thick eyebrows, and full lips. Heather’s face was diamond-shaped, and Harry’s was rectangular.

They shared several other traits as well, in fact it often seemed as if they shared a brain. If one moved, the other moved as well. If one decided it was time to run, the other would too. They were almost like one cohesive unit, the way they acted simultaneously or in response to the other, even when they couldn’t see one another (which was rare; as I said, they preferred not to be separated, especially around the Dursleys). And when they touched anywhere skin-to-skin, they could hear each other’s thoughts.

Their aunt and uncle knew nothing of this, of course. The twins weren’t stupid enough to tell them. It would just further cement the idea in the Dursleys minds that they were freaks.

It was more than just their telepathy, though. Harry and Heather were similar in ways that went bone-deep, that were integral parts of who they were (a few of these similarities they didn’t even know about yet, and wouldn’t for some time).

They were both brave, though often foolhardy – as witnessed by all on the day they decided to fight back against Dudley – and fast, though they may not look it. They both liked to learn and were very bright, though Harry hated going to school and Heather hated having homework assignments. Both of them were friendly and kind to those who deserved it, yet sneaky and probably too wise for their age, a wisdom born of learning life’s early lessons with no adult guidance, of learning, indeed, to _protect_ themselves from adults, in whatever ways they could. They were strong mentally, of course – how else could they survive such horrible abuse and neglect (even if the twins didn’t know that that was what was happening to them all the time) with only one another to lean on? – and they were strong physically, even if they were both small for their ages – they proved that the time they somehow managed to throw Uncle Vernon across the room when he tried to –

“Look!” Heather suddenly whispered, pointing at the welcome matt. Four letters sat there, and Harry squinted at them, looking for what had caught his sister’s eye. One was a brown envelope that looked like a bill, then there was a postcard that appeared to be from Vernon’s sister Marge, and two letters for the twins –

“Wait,” Harry said, “Do those say…our names?”

“Yeah!” Heather said, kneeling down and grabbing the two letters, leaving the others on the mat. “Look – _Miss H Potter, the cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey_!”

“But…how could anyone actually know where we sleep?” Harry asked, taking his letter and looking it over. The address was written in an elegant, thin script, with emerald green ink. There was neither a stamp nor a return address. As one, the twins flipped their letters over and saw that the backs were held down by a purple wax seal with a letter ‘H’ inside a crest stamped onto it. The envelopes, they noted, were not normal paper, but a type of heavy, yellowish parchment.

Harry and Heather looked at each other, then began to open the letters. However, before they could even pull them out of the envelopes, they were interrupted by a loud yell.

“DAD! MUM! THEY’RE MESSING WITH THE MAIL!”

The twins both jumped and quickly made to stuff their letters into their pockets, but Vernon came bounding into the hall and ran at them faster than any man his size should have been able to. He grabbed the letters out of the hands, sneering and wheezing at the same time.

“What do you two worthless freaks think you’re doing?” he snarled, grabbing the rest of the mail from the mat. “How _dare_ you open our mail!”

“They’re _not_ yours!” Heather said. “Those two are for Harry and me!”

Uncle Vernon’s sneer faded. Petunia peeked into the hall curiously.

“You?” snorted Vernon, thumbing through the mail to their letters, “Who would be writing to…” he gasped, and the twins saw his face change from red to green faster than a traffic light. “P-p-p-Petunia!”

Their aunt rushed over to them and grabbed the letters out of their uncle’s fat hands. She looked at the address, gasped, then shakily pulled a letter out. Both she and Vernon read a bit of it at the same time, while the twins tried desperately to grab them and Dudley wandered curiously down the hall.

“Vernon – oh my goodness…Vernon!” Their aunt looked like she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a sort of choking sound.

“Hey, I want to see those letters!” Dudley demanded, whacking his father on the leg with his Smelting’s stick.

“No, _we_ want them.” Harry said, glaring at Dudley. “As they’re _ours_.”

“Go to your rooms, the lot of you.” Vernon said croakily, stuffing the letters in his back pocket.

No one moved.

“Give us our letters!” said Heather.

“Let _me_ see them!” cried Dudley.

“OUT!” Vernon yelled, grabbing Dudley by his shirt and heaving him towards the staircase. Next second, he was grabbing Harry and Heather by the backs of their necks and squeezing to get them moving. He shoved them into their cupboard and slammed the door, locking it from the outside.

However, for once the twins got lucky. Their uncle had forgotten to close the vent in the door.

Quickly they sat up, scooting to the door and looking out through the slats in the brass opening, their cheeks pressed together and hands clasped tight between their bodies.

“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice. It appeared that she was leaning against the wall for support, though the twins could only see part of her back. Judging by the movement of the shadows in the hall, Vernon was pacing in front of her. “Look at the addresses – how could they _possibly_ know where they sleep? Goodness, y–you don’t think they’re watching the house?”

“Watching – spying – might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

“But what should we do, Vernon? Perhaps we write back? Tell them we don’t want–”

“No,” said Uncle Vernon after a minute. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer….yes, that’s best…, we won’t do anything…”

“But–”

“I’m _not_ having that in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took the brats in we’d stamp out all that dangerous nonsense?”

\--------------------------------------------*---------------------------------------

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before: he visited the twins in their cupboard.

“Where’re our letters?” demanded Harry the moment he had squeezed himself through the door.

“Who’s writing to us?” Heather said quickly. The twins had never wanted something so badly in their lives as to know what was in those letters.

“No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,” said Uncle Vernon shortly. “I’ve burned them.”

“It was _not_ a mistake,” Harry said angrily. The twins hated being treated like they were stupid.

“It had our cupboard on it!” Heather cried. The Dursleys _never_ did anything remotely kind for them – was it so much too just ask for the mail that was _addressed_ to them? Who could it really harm?

“SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon. The twins winced slightly, while a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. Vernon took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked rather painful.

“Er – yes, Harry, Heather – about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking…you’re really getting a bit big for it…we think it might be… _nice_ if you two just moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.”

“Why?” Harry asked curiously. The twins started to feel a bit excited at the idea, but it wasn’t like the Dursleys to be kind, especially Petunia, who had wanted them in the cupboard in the first place.

“Don’t ask questions!” snapped their uncle, ruining that illusion. “Just take all this stuff upstairs, now.”

\------------------------------------------*-----------------------------------------

The Dursley house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Vernon’s sister, Marge, who was horrible and hated the twins almost more than the Dursleys did), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit into his first bedroom. It only took the Potters one trip upstairs to move everything they owned from the cupboard.

Petunia moved most of Dudley's things to the guest room or the attic. There was only one bed, one closet, and one dresser in the room, but of course Harry and Heather didn’t have many clothes as it was, and they were used to sharing a small cot; having a double-sized bed to share was a luxury.

“Yesterday, I would have given two day’s food to be up here.” Heather said sadly as they both lay by the window.

“Me too.” Harry agreed, cleaning his glasses on his stained shirt. “Now I just wish we had those letters.”

\--------------------------------------------*---------------------------------------

The next morning at breakfast, Dudley was in shock. He’d screamed, been sick on purpose, whacked his father with his Smelting’s stick, thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and kicked his mother, but he still didn’t have his second bedroom back. Heather was thinking about this time yesterday and wishing they had opened the letters faster in the hall, or just stuffed them in their cupboard. Harry was pushing his eggs around, not feeling hungry but trying to make himself eat – the twins couldn’t really rely on meals at Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to the twins for some reason, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting’s stick all the way down the hall. After a moment he shouted, “There’re more! _Mr. H. Potter the right side of the bed, the smallest bedroom_ , _Miss H. Potter, the_ –”

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt up from his seat and ran down the hall with the twins right behind him. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letters from him, which was made more difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon from behind around the neck and Heather had his feet. After a minute of confused fighting in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting’s stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, both letters clutched in his meaty hand.

“Go to your cupboard – I mean, your – your bedroom,” he wheezed to the twins. “Dudley – go – j–just go.”

\--------------------------------------------*---------------------------------------

“They know we’ve moved from the cupboard,” Heather said.

“And they know we didn’t get the first letter, apparently,” added Harry. “So that means they’ll try again, right?”

“They have to,” agreed Heather quickly, hope in her voice. “They won’t give up easily, I bet, whoever they are.”

“We have to help them this time,” said Harry, sitting down on the bed. “But what could we do?”

They both thought for a moment. Heather was pacing the room, and Harry was sitting on the edge of their bed, absentmindedly playing with a paper airplane he had made. This was one of the many advantages to finally having a room; in their cupboard, they could barely sit up straight, much less move around.

“I’ve got it!” Harry suddenly exclaimed with a grin.

\--------------------------------------------*---------------------------------------

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o’clock the next morning. Heather turned it off quickly and they got dressed silently. They mustn’t wake the Dursleys – that was the most important part of the plan. They quickly stole downstairs without turning on any lights, both skilfully avoiding the creaky step.

Harry and Heather were going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for Number Four first. They already had a story ready for him as to why they were doing so. Both of their hearts hammered as they crept across the dark hall toward the front door –

“AAAAARRRRRGGHHH!!!”

Heather leapt into the air; she’d trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something _alive_!

Lights clicked on upstairs, and to the twin’s horror, they realized that Heather had stepped on Uncle Vernon. The man had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly trying to make sure they wouldn’t do exactly what they’d been trying to do. He shouted at Harry and Heather for half an hour, then told them to go make some tea. They shuffled miserably off to the kitchen and by the time they got back, Petunia and Dudley had come downstairs, now dressed, and the mail had been delivered right into Uncle Vernon’s lap. They could see at least a dozen letters addressed in green ink.

Before they could say a word, Uncle Vernon began tearing the letters into pieces.

However, at that moment Heather saw something that Harry’s poor eyesight and cheap glasses wouldn’t let him spot from this far away.

One word: _Wizard_.

Heather gasped. Instinctively, she reached for Harry’s arm. Ever since they could remember, they had been able to communicate with each other this way – in their minds. They only had to be touching, and they could do it.

Heather showed Harry what she had seen. The one word.

 _Wizard_.

Time seemed to stop as the children turned to look at each other. Dudley seemed to freeze where he was sitting on the stairs, tapping the rungs with his Smelting’s stick. Petunia appeared to stop mid-sip, her teacup held delicately to her lips and her eyes on Vernon, who looked as if he had stalled in tearing the tenth letter apart.

Or maybe things just looked this way to Harry and Heather because so many things suddenly made sense.

They were getting letters from someone who knew exactly where they slept. The person had known they hadn’t been able to read the first ones. Their aunt and uncle’s horrified expressions became clear. Their references to the twins _‘being like their freak parents’_ made sense now. And all the strange things the twins seemed to be able to do – seemingly talking to the snakes in the back garden, their ability to read one another’s minds, making their hair grow back after bad hair cuts, turning their teacher’s wig blue, ending up on the top of the school roof, throwing Uncle Vernon across the room the sixth time he had touched them…

It all added up.

One word.

 _Wizard_.

As one, the children stuck out their right hands. Time was now moving normally again, and the two remaining letters flew from Uncle Vernon’s lap into Harry’s and Heather’s hands.

Vernon froze. Dudley screamed. Petunia gave a little gasp of horror. The twins ignored them all and opened their letters.

This is what they saw, in the same script and green ink as the envelope:

**Hogwarts School**

**of**

**Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc. Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

 

Dear Mr or Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than July thirty-first.

Yours sincerely,

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Deputy headmistress

The twins didn’t even pause as they turned to the next page. The Dursleys were all still frozen in place.

Uniform:

Three Sets of Plain Work Robes (Black)

One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear

One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all students’ clothes should carry name-tags at all times

 

Course Books:

/All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Droughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self– Protection by Quentin Tremble

 

Other Equipment:

1 wand

1 cauldron (Pewter, Standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a rat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

 

Slowly, they lowered their letters. Dudley had migrated from the staircase and was cowering behind Petunia.

“So this is it.” Harry finally said, looking at the Dursleys. “This is what you didn’t want us to know. We’re wizards.”

Petunia shrieked. Dudley gaped. Vernon started to stand, looking ready to say something.

“No.” Heather said, quietly but firmly. Vernon froze in place, and seemed unable to move either fully up or back down.

“This is why you’ve hated us our whole lives,” Heather continued, “Because we’re wizards. That’s why we were always doing those strange things. We always thought it couldn’t be our faults, but it _was_ us.”

“And I bet that’s why you hated our parents,” said Harry. “I bet they were wizards too, weren’t they?”

Neither Vernon nor Petunia answered. Dudley seemed to be crying.

“WEREN’T THEY?” Harry yelled, and Petunia jumped and gave a weak nod.

“You tried to keep these from us – to stop us from knowing who we are, and that there are more out there like us,” Heather stated, flatly at first, but her voice began to rise quickly as she continued: “You thought that if you hurt us enough, treated us badly enough, you could stop us from being who we’re supposed to be!”

Vernon’s petrifaction seemed to wear off, because he suddenly stood completely upright and made for the twins.

“Look, you disgusting freaks, I –”

“Stop talking!” Harry cried. Heather’s hand flew out, and Uncle Vernon flew backwards into the door, leaving a large dent, just as he had when the twins were five. Petunia and Dudley both screamed, and Harry held his hand out towards them without even thinking about it. They were both immediately silenced, and looked plainly terrified as they tried in vain to yell, backed against the wall together. The twins advanced on Uncle Vernon.

“You hurt us, and starved us, and locked us in a closet, and…and…” Heather couldn’t find a word for the other things their uncle had done to them. She did not yet know the word ‘rape’ or ‘molest’, though she would one day. However, their uncle obviously knew what she meant, for he grew paler and paler the more she spoke.

Harry picked up, “And called us freaks since we were babies, all because we could do _this_!”

He reached into a deep part of his mind, the part where he and his sister were connected, the part where that certain feeling always seemed to come from – the feeling when their hair grew back, when they threw their uncle across the room, the feeling when they were sick or hurt and suddenly seemed to get just a bit better – and willed all the pictures on the stairwell to break. The glass shattered, spraying shards all over the stairs and parts of the downstairs hall, and pictures and broken frames fell among them. Dudley screamed again, the silence worn off, and was now sobbing loudly, as was Petunia. Their uncle looked like he would pass out at any moment.

“But for all we know, you three are the freaks!” yelled Heather. “You and everyone like you! Who’s to say that wizards and witches didn’t come first, and that _you’re_ wrong?”

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” said Harry, quietly now, but this only served to terrify the Dursleys more. “We are going to go out and find an owl. You three are going to clean all this up and make yourselves – _and us_ – breakfast.”

“We are going to write to Hogwarts and ask them where we buy our school things,” continued Heather, just as quietly. They were still touching each other’s arms, planning together in their heads. “And how we are to pay for it all. Once we get a reply, you will take us to wherever we need to go. After that, we don’t want to see you _ever_ again.”

“We’ll find someone else to live while school isn’t in session,” Harry said. “I’m sure there’s somewhere we can find a decent enough job washing dishes or something, and a place to live. Obviously we can protect ourselves.”

The twins paused to smile widely at each other. The Dursleys all flinched.

“A cardboard box under a bridge in the winter would be better than here.” Heather added. “But before all that, Aunt Petunia,” Petunia flinched again as the twins turned to her, “You are going to tell us how our parents really died.”

Together, they had both silently realised that the car crash story had been just that – a story. To be honest, it had been in the backs of their minds for quite a while.

Petunia’s mouth moved a few times before sound came out, and this time it wasn’t because of the twins’ magic.

“I-I-I I have a letter…” she stammered uncertainly.

“Go get it,” said Harry resolutely, and Petunia nodded, nearly running up the stairs. Dudley, without his mother to shield him, whimpered and backed as far away from the twins as he could, sliding with his back along the wall until he hit a picture frame with the back of his head and shrieked in terror.

Seconds later, Petunia appeared. In her hand was another parchment envelope, but this time only her name was on the front. Heather took it, and Petunia dashed over to Dudley once more.

Together, the twins read the words written in curly, magenta script:

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

_As you probably know, these two children are your niece and nephew. Their parents have tragically been killed by the Dark wizard known as Voldemort. The children, however, survived, and one of them seems to have destroyed the Dark Lord – perhaps for good._

_Since their mother’s love for them protected them, I have placed them in your care, as you share the same blood as Lily Potter. Your presence with the children will protect them as their mother’s did until they are of age. I’m sure you and your family can find it in your hearts to care for the children, and I’m certain they will be very kind and well-behaved._

_Now, about their future education at Hogwarts. I am not certain as to how much you know about our world, so I will try to cover all necessary things. Their letters should come in the summer of their eleventh year. They have a very large sum of money stored in the wizard bank, Gringotts, that can be accessed any time by the key in this envelope, or, if need be, by a small blood sample._

_However, I am sure you will not need any of this until their education starts, but it is there if necessary. Now, the entrance to Diagon Alley, where Gringotts is located and where they may get all their school supplies, is located behind a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. It sits in between a book shop and a record shop on Charring Cross Road in London. The Leaky Cauldron isn’t easily noticed by non-wizards, so the children will have to lead you in._

_But in any case, I’m sure you’ll all do very well. We’ll see you in ten years._

_Thank you and condolences,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

“Our parents were killed by an evil wizard – Voldenmog?” Heather said in disbelief. It was like something from a fairy tale. Wait, actually that name didn’t sound right; she re-read the letter quickly and saw that it was actually _Voldemort_ – what an odd name. She was pretty sure it meant something about death in Latin or French, or perhaps both. Did all wizards have such odd names? Voldemort, Dumbledore, Minerva…

Harry had a different reaction. Or, rather, he had it sooner; Heather surely would have gotten there as well in due time.

“Our parents were murdered, and you couldn’t be bothered to tell us?” He nearly roared at Petunia, who whimpered something like “sorry”. Heather even jumped slightly, while Dudley was sobbing so hard he was liable to have an asthma attack and Vernon was a pale white they had never seen him turn before; generally when their uncle changed colour with emotion, he went red, or, if very angry, purple.

Harry felt like he could have breathed fire – and perhaps he actually _could_ , he thought wildly. Anything was possible now.

“SORRY?” he yelled, “YOU’RE SORRY?”

The windows began rattling in their frames. Dudley passed out cold against the wall, his eyes rolling back, sliding to the floor behind his mother. Vernon didn’t even dare to breathe. Petunia was frozen in place.

Heather grabbed her brother’s arm tighter. She spoke to him quickly, even though they tended to communicate in their heads using feelings and images and fleeting thoughts:

‘ _Harry, I know you’re upset. So am I. But this isn’t even the worst thing they’ve done to us. Besides, now we’re getting out of here, remember? Let’s not explode the house just yet, okay? Maybe in a few years.’_

Harry took a deep breath. The windows stopped shaking. He knew his sister was right; the only important thing right now was getting away – both for their safety and the Dursley’s. He hated them all passionately, but he didn’t want them _dead_. Or at least, he didn’t think he did.

Harry calmed himself while he and Heather read the letter again, and noticed now that the man who had wrote it – Albus Dumbledore – was also the headmaster of Hogwarts. Why had a school headmaster been in charge of their future?

Oh – and they had a bank vault, left to them by their parents. They just needed the key…

The twins glanced inside the envelope, and there was indeed a small gold key. Heather grabbed it.

“That answers a few things,” said Heather, “But we still need to ask them a couple of questions when we write our acceptance message.”

“Right,” agreed Harry, nodding and turning back to the Dursleys. Dudley was stirring a bit, and Vernon had stood up and gone to help Petunia try and revive him. The adults looked up, saw the twins looking at them, and gulped.

“Now,” said Heather patiently, as though to a small child, “What did we say is going to happen?”

“Y-y-y-you’re – you’re going to go get an owl,” said Petunia in a whisper, “And write to those frea–” she cut herself off at a dark look from the Potters, “I mean, the Hogwarts people, and we’re going to…to straighten up and make some breakfast.”

Harry and Heather nodded, then looked to Vernon to continue.

“Oh – r-right,” he stammered, shaking a bit. “Then once you get an answer, we’ll take you wherever you need to go, and then – then you don’t want to see us ever again, right?”

The twins nodded again.

“Also, you’re going to keep acting like we live here,” said Heather, “That man’s letter makes it seem like we’re here for our protection, which is bullshit, of course, but we don’t want him trying to make us come back to live here.”

“So if he sends you any letters, or stops by, you act like we’re here, got it?” Harry finished. Vernon and Petunia nodded quickly.

“Good,” said Heather. “Now get to work.”

Immediately Petunia scrambled for the kitchen to get the dustbin and broom, and Vernon started hastily picking up the fallen pictures and salvageable frames. Dudley’s eyelids began fluttering and he moaned, reaching up to rub his head.

The twins looked at each other and smiled, Harry pocketed his Hogwarts letter and supply list along with Albus Dumbledore's letter, and Heather pocketed her letter and supply list, along with the tiny key for their vault. They grabbed a pen and a pad of paper from the living room. Heather’s hand was almost on the doorknob when Harry stopped her.

“Can’t we give them one more thing to clean up?” he asked hopefully, and Heather grinned.

Together, they thrust out their hands, palm up, and the front door flew off its hinges and fell down on the porch with a loud CRASH that made all three Dursleys scream. Grabbing each other’s hands and nodding politely to the many watching neighbours, the Potter twins stepped out of Privet Drive in search of an owl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2018 - All chapters are being edited and re-uploaded at the moment. A new chapter should be out soon!


	3. Chapter 2: Leaving – Diagon Alley, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is the ACTUAL chapter 2 - there was a mix up here; thank you Redknightly for pointing that out! I hope you guys enjoy now that it makes sense haha.

*

_I might have nowhere left to go_

_But I know that I cannot go home_

_These words are trapped inside my head_

_Telling me to run before I'm dead_

_Chase the rainbows in my mind_

_And I will try to stay alive_

*

**Chapter 2: Leaving – Diagon Alley, Part I**

Surprisingly, the twins didn’t have to walk long. Down on Magnolia Crescent, in the eves of a holly tree, there was a large barn owl. It was already awake and looking at them, which the twins found odd, as owls usually slept during the daytime.

“Um…” Harry began, looking around to make sure no one was nearby. “Er – can you carry letters, then?”

The owl eyed them carefully, then fluttered down to a lower branch. It hooted loudly, and stuck out its leg.

The twins took this as a yes.

“Okay, one second,” said Heather, sitting down with the paper and pen. Harry sat as well and began pulling a long thread out of his sweater to use to tie the letter to the bird’s leg. The owl hooted again in answer and lowered its leg, fluffing its feathers a bit.

Heather was very careful to write neatly, check her spelling, and remember her grammar. When she was done, she passed the letter to her brother for approval:

_Dear Professor Minerva McGonagall,_

_We would be very happy to attend Hogwarts, but we have a few concerns. Firstly, how much does tuition cost, or is it free to witches and wizards? Secondly, could you please tell us what the everyday dress code for students is, so that we know what to pack? We saw the robes listed on the supply list; are those worn all the time, just during classes, or only on special occasions? Last, where is Hogwarts located? Is there a sort of Wizard’s school bus to take us there? Is so, where do we meet it?_

_Please answer at your earliest convenience._

_Thank you for your response,_

_Harry and Heather Potter_

“Great job,” said Harry approvingly, and they stood up and stepped towards the tree. The owl obediently put out its leg again, and Heather folded the letter and held it carefully while Harry tied it securely, making sure it was neither too tight nor too loose, and wouldn’t come undone mid-flight.

The owl stared at them expectantly once they had finished.

“Oh!” Harry said, “Um, we need you to take it to a woman called Minerva McGonagall. She might be at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but I’m not sure where that is or the address so maybe – hey!”

The owl had taken off.

Heather shrugged, “I guess he knows where it is.”

“I hope so,” said Harry, and they began the walk back to number four.

\-------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------

This day was, by far, the best of Harry and Heather’s lives to date.

When they arrived back home – mercifully, they would not be forced to call it by that name much longer – the Dursleys had finished cleaning up and fixing breakfast. The door was propped up in place – apparently the children had managed to break the hinges clean in half, and a repair man was coming to replace it later that afternoon (there was a large dent in it as well, after all, from Vernon’s rotund figure smashing into it). The Dursleys had wisely told the repair company (and the very curious neighbours) that Vernon had fallen down the stairs that morning, which accounted for his aching, colourfully bruised back as well.

The twins didn’t feel the least bit guilty about hurting him. After all, the Dursleys had done much, much worse things to them in the past, and Vernon was a grown man, anyway. He could certainly survive a little back ache if the twins could survive being beaten and starved and _worse_ since they were toddlers.

Petunia had laid all the pictures that had been knocked off the stairwell on the coffee table in the living room, and was planning to replace the glass and the frames that were broken later. The stairs themselves had been swept and then thoroughly vacuumed, but the Dursleys had elected to wear shoes about for the next few days until their appointment to get them professionally cleaned. Apparently, Uncle Vernon had knocked down the pictures while falling down the stairs as well. The neighbours were very concerned about him, and several sent fruit baskets or flowers. One man down at number thirty, who was a masseuse, had even offered to adjust Vernon's back for him later that day.

Harry and Heather had been extraordinarily amused to find the three Dursleys sitting ramrod-straight in their chairs, five places set instead of the usual four (because, _if_ the twins ate at all, Harry and Heather usually had to share a seat and a plate, supposedly so as not to throw off the balance of Petunia’s precious table), and a very large breakfast which included toast, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes, eggs, sausage, bacon, and Yorkshire pudding. The Dursleys had not even filled their own plates yet – not even Dudley – and didn’t begin to until the twins sat down and started to grab some food.

Dudley didn’t ask to turn on the television, and Vernon and Petunia didn’t gossip about the neighbours like they usually did. However, Harry and Heather couldn’t stop talking.

“What do you think wands are made of?” asked Harry while he poured ketchup – something they usually weren’t allowed – on his eggs. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve picked up some sticks before, and I don’t remember them doing anything magic-ish.”

Heather shrugged.

“Maybe wands aren’t made of wood,” she said, slathering two kinds of marmalade on her second piece of toast, “Or maybe they’re made from a special kind of wood. What classes do you think we’ll take?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, “Maybe we should have asked in the letter…”

“Nah, I’m sure we can ask at that wizard place, what was it…oh, right, Diagon Alley.” Heather said, not willing to wait for another letter to arrive. “And we might be able to guess a few when we look over the supply list. Maybe we can find a book about Hogwarts also.”

“Oh yeah, good idea,” her brother said. The twins did not miss the fact that Uncle Vernon’s hands were shaking on his silverware – probably from hearing all the horrible _freaky_ words, like ‘magic’ and ‘wand’ and ‘Hogwarts’. “I wonder if we’re in any books? Albus Dumbledore's letter said that our parents were murdered and that one of us survived some kind of curse…wouldn’t they, I dunno…put that in a Wizarding newspaper or something?”

“I guess so – I mean, I’m sure it was a big deal,” Heather agreed, noticing that her aunt was continually raising and lowering her teacup without taking a sip. “Or maybe that sort of thing just happens all the time in the Wizarding World?”

“I hope not,” Harry said, “But there was that book on the list – _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. So maybe it’s a common thing? Or maybe that’s just a basic self-defence course? It could be to protect witches and wizards from _their_ kind.” He was excited to be able to throw that phrase back at Petunia and Vernon. He shot a dark look at the Dursley’s, and Petunia’s hand shook so much that tea spilled over the rim of her cup.

“Hmm,” said Heather thoughtfully.

\--------------------------------------The Reply----------------------------------

An hour later found Harry and Heather in their room, packing up their meagre possessions. They relieved the Dursleys of two old canvas bags, one brown and one something that looked formerly purple, and a yellow rucksack with a string tie. They had considered using their old school backpacks, but since they had had the same ones since they were five and they were ripped and torn nearly everywhere, they abandoned the book bags as hopeless. The thought of taking the Dursleys nicest suitcases was tempting, but they planned to buy their own as soon as they could – they had their own bank vault after all; surely they could afford new luggage, or even just used pieces – so they deemed it unnecessary. They planned to dispose of all the things the Dursleys had ‘given’ them at the first possible opportunity. This part of their life was ending, and they wanted no reminders of the past nine years.

Their clothes were easy to pack away, since they only had seven shirts, four pairs of pants, and four pairs of shoes total, plus one jacket each. They changed into their least horrible clothes – Harry’s was a dark grey shirt that may have once been white and went nearly to his knees, some jean trousers so torn and covered in dust they could have been mistaken for an old potato sack, and his blue and white trainers. Heather wore a brownish-grey shirt and a pair of trousers that may have also been white once, and a pair of pink-and-white trainers the Dursley’s had found on the side of the road. Everything they owned, except for Heather’s pink roadside trainers and her moth-eaten jacket (which her aunt had found in a chest of her childhood things), were hand-me-downs from their cousin, only given to them when he had worn and dirtied them nearly to pieces. If something he no longer fitted into or liked was deemed ‘too good’ for the twins, their aunt and uncle donated it instead. They were considered very charitable people in Little Whinging.

The excuses given for their niece and nephews clothing was that they dirtied and ripped them on purpose, just to spite their poor, kind family. After all, the Dursleys couldn’t let it be public knowledge that they made the children wear such nasty clothes. Let it never be said that the Dursleys weren’t clever, however. They always seemed to know just the right people to tell so that, if the twins tried to report their horrible actions to a teacher or police man, it was usually laughed off as them stirring up trouble, and they were lucky if they didn’t get punished for it.

The twins debated on taking showers for a spell, but they didn’t want to miss the owl when he came back and end up spending a second longer in Privet Drive than they had to.

And it was lucky they decided not to, because as soon as they took their bags downstairs, there was a pecking sound from the living room window.

They heard Petunia scream, and darted through the hall.

The Dursleys were in the living room, all squashed together on one couch with the television turned down low. At the window was the same large owl who had taken their letter little more than two hours before.

The twins ran to the window and threw it open, and the owl fluttered in, dropped a letter on Uncle Vernon’s head, pooped in the middle of Petunia’s beautiful crème Berber carpet, darted around Dudley’s head in a close circle, causing the boy to scream and throw himself onto the floor, and then flew into the kitchen and began eating all the leftover bacon.

Harry and Heather hadn’t before known that it was possible to fall in love with a bird.

“Help yourself to all the leftovers,” Heather told the owl when he paused and looked up at her, as if making sure he was allowed to finish off all the food. Heather looked slyly at Aunt Petunia out of the corner of her eye. “I’m sure no one will mind.”

The owl gave what may have been a nod, and set upon eating the leftover meat and toast and vegetables from all over the table, occasionally swivelling his head all the way around backwards to _glare_ – that was the only word for it – at Dudley, who whimpered aloud each time.

Quickly, Harry and Heather opened the parchment envelope, which was addressed simply with their names in dark blue ink, and read:

_Dear Mr and Miss Potter,_

_Thank you for your polite acceptance. We were beginning to worry that we wouldn’t hear from you. I would be happy to give you all the information you need, and if you need any assistance or have any more questions, please do contact us again._

_Your tuitions are covered already, as your parents paid them in full at the time of your birth. The dress code for students is not usually explicitly stated, but students are expected to wear appropriate, clean clothing that they would wear to any Muggle primary school when classes are not in session (Muggles, by the by, are what we call non-magical individuals, in case your aunt and uncle haven’t mentioned that to you). During the day when classes are in session, students wear the robes mentioned in your letter, and on holidays and during special events, the pointed black hat is worn. There is a uniform worn under robes which will be given to you by whomever you choose to buy your robes from. As for your last questions, Hogwarts is located in a secure area of Scotland. A train, called the Hogwarts Express, takes all the students to school on September First. It leaves from King’s Cross station at eleven o’clock exactly. You should be able to purchase tickets at Diagon Alley, but if you have any trouble you may send me another letter and I will secure some for you._

_We look forward to seeing you soon,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

The twins grinned at one another, feeling like balloons of happiness were inflating in their chests. Hogwarts was _really_ real. Until this moment, they had still been a little uncertain, but here was the proof. They were really going to move out of the Dursleys’ home. They were really going to buy wands and spell books and robes. They were really going to a magic school to meet other children like _them_. They were really going to be able to make friends.

They were really free.

\-------------------------------------------*----------------------------------------

The Dursleys nearly ran to the door when Harry and Heather told them they needed to be taken to Charring Cross Road in London. Obviously, they were anxious to be rid of them. It was alright; the twins felt the exact same way.

They loaded their bags into the trunk, and Dudley squeezed in between his parents in the front seat, apparently not wishing to be alone in the back with Harry and Heather, which they were thrilled with. They had a lot of space in the back when it was just the two of them, and sat munching crisps and candy bars they had grabbed from the Dursleys’ pantry (Uncle Vernon never allowed eating in his lovely new car, not even by Dudley, but at this point that was no doubt the very least of his concerns). They read the three letters and supply lists over and over again, and speculated about classes and what the Hogwarts school and train would look like.

It was only around the tenth re-read of their reply from Professor M. McGonagall that Harry realised something:

“Wait, Heather, look!” he said, stopping her rant about ‘dragon hide’, and if it was from actual dragons and, if so, if it was gathered ethically; did dragons shed their skin, or did wizards wait until they died to gather hides, or was it just an expression, and had nothing to really do with dragons? (She certainly hoped they weren’t _killed_ for their skins). “Did you see this? ‘Muggles, by the by, are what we call non-magical individuals, in case your aunt and uncle haven’t mentioned that to you’. How did she – I mean, I assume ‘Minerva’ means she’s a woman – how did she know we were with _them_?”

The children were delighted to talk about the Dursleys like they weren’t there, as Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley had done so to them more often than they could count.

“Oh wow, I hadn’t thought about that!” said Heather, picking up said letter and reading it again (even though they had both memorised it by now), “That’s odd…well, I mean, apparently the guy who’s headmaster is the one who placed us with them, so maybe he told her? Or maybe it’s just common knowledge?”

“It could be that it was included in an article or something when our parents were killed,” Harry agreed, nodding, “Like _‘they are survived by their children, who now reside with their aunt and uncle’_ – like a eulogy or something.”

“Good point,” Heather said, nodding as well.

The ride to London seemed to take forever to the twins, but in reality it was only about a half hour with the minimal traffic on the roads. Soon they were at the start of Charring Cross Road, and the twins found themselves getting out of the car.

They got their things from the back and double-checked that they had their letters and their vault key, packing the rest of their food away – you never know when you’ll need a quick snack – and then they stood on the sidewalk next to where the Dursleys sat in their car, unsure of what to say. The Dursleys were horrible, but it was true that they probably _could_ have been worse, though that didn’t justify or nullify how they _had_ acted, and they were the only family the Potters had, besides one another.

At least, they thought so.

“If they…if _they_ come around, we’ll tell them you’re still there,” said Petunia finally, breaking the silence. She swallowed hard and then stammered through her next sentence. “Um…just – I wanted to…if I could –if I’d known….your – I – I…just – good luck, Harry, Heather.”

This was possibly the first time she had called them by name. Usually they were addressed as ‘Potter’ ‘Freaks’ ‘Brats’, and other such things – or, if they were lucky, simply ‘the twins’. This was probably, altogether, the nicest thing Petunia – or, indeed, any of the Dursleys – had ever said to them.

“Thank you,” said Harry and Heather, shocked but now genuine  
(they could at least give Petunia that), and they stepped further onto the sidewalk. They looked at each other, then back to the Dursleys. They weren’t going to let them leave first.

So the Potter twins turned on their heels and began to walk.

\--------------------------------------------*---------------------------------------

Soon, they located a record shop that was next to a book shop across the street from them, and remembered Professor Dumbledore’s instructions to their aunt. They knew it was possible that this was just a coincidence and not the right place, but they had to look, so they crossed the street. The closer they got to the other side, the more another building came into view – a building _between_ those two, a building that hadn’t been there before. It was a small, dingy-looking pub. The sign, reading _The Leaky Cauldron_ , was half-broken, hanging lopsidedly and swaying slightly in the wind.

Harry and Heather shared a looked. They glanced around; was it their imaginations, or was no one else really looking at the pub?

Cautiously, they pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It was a bit dark and shabby on the inside, and looked quite old, but it was welcoming in its own way. There were several people there, and Harry and Heather were delighted to see that they were wearing pointed hats and robes. A group of people in the corner were passing around a drink that appeared to be on fire, a woman near the counter with thick glasses that magnified her eyes hugely was drinking from a bottle of cooking sherry, several people were eating soup that seemed to be moving on its own, and an old, bald man was standing behind the counter polishing glasses with an already filthy rag.

“Well, they’re almost _definitely_ witches and wizards,” said Harry in a whisper, “But how do we get to Diagon Alley from here?”

“Do you suppose it’s around the back?” asked Heather. “Or maybe downstairs?”

“There could be, like, a portal or something…”

Before they could decide what to do, however, the old barman noticed them.

“Hey!” he cried, darting out from behind the counter and shaking his dirty rag at them, “I don’t know how you two got in here, but you shouldn’t be!”

The twins were shocked for a moment, backing up just slightly in fear. Had they picked the wrong place? Was this the wrong pub? Perhaps they weren’t allowed in here without adults, or maybe they needed to be with a fully grown wizard? Was he going to kick them out before they could even get their school things?

“No, you don’t understand, see –” Harry began, but the man cut him off, trying to shuffle them back out through the door.

“Yes, I know, I know,” he said, “You just want a bit to eat, I’m sure – well if the ministry finds out, they’ll want to know _how_ two Muggles could get in here, and I don’t need the investigation, so you two just scurry along and –”

The twins quickly realised that he probably thought they were street children who had snuck in, due to their clothes. As the man continued to rant, the two siblings kept opening their mouths to get a word in and tell him what was going on, but he didn’t give them a moment to speak. Finally, the twins cracked.

“HEY!” yelled Heather, completely fed up. Everyone looked over at them, and the man froze. “If you would just _listen_ then we could tell you we _are_ supposed to be here. Look!”

She pulled out her Hogwarts letter and turned it towards him. The man’s eyes widened.

“Oh – Oh!” he quickly lowered his dish rag. “I’m sorry about that, it’s just that you looked – well anyway,” he continued quickly at a glare from the children, flushing a bit, “Um…can I offer you a complementary pea soup?”

He gestured to the people eating lunch at the table. The twins shuddered. They were of the opinion that peas should never be forced into a soup, and that their food shouldn’t move of its own accord – at least not when they were trying to eat it.

“No thank you,” Harry said, “Can you just show us how to get to Diagon Alley?”

“Of course!” the man said quickly. He led them to the back door near the staircase and opened it. Outside was a small yard that was bare save for a rubbish bin, and closed in by a brick fence. The man pulled a stick – ( _‘Is that a wand?’_ Heather thought with amazement, her forearm brushing her brother’s) – out of his pocket and tapped a couple of the bricks on the wall across from the door, doing so in a seemingly random order.

Harry and Heather screamed as the bricks shuddered, then shook, then began to fold back in on themselves, parting until there was a large archway leading to a busy street – the most amazing street they had ever seen.

“There you are – Diagon Alley,” said the man, gesturing grandly, “I’m Tom, by the way. Should have said so before. Anything else you two need?”

“Um – which way is Gringotts bank –?” Heather began.

“Just down at the end of the street,” Tom interrupted, pointing, “Big white marble building, see?”

“Thanks,” Harry said in a whisper. Neither of them could stop staring.

They began walking down the cobbled street, wishing they had about eight more eyes each – they wanted to look at the shops, the things _in_ the shops, and the people doing their shopping, all at once.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. _Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible_ said a sign hanging over them. Outside one shop was a group of children staring at a display stand, which was advertising something called a _Nimbus Two Thousand_ – a real flying broomstick. A tall man coming out of the shop was saying, “That much for a Comet? Must be off their heads…”

A low, soft hooting sound came from a dark shop with a sign saying _Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, and Snowy._ There were shops selling robes, shops selling strange instruments Harry and Heather had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon –

And then they stopped. The twins had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops, the tallest of which was probably around five floors, tiny when compared to what looked like a dozen marble floors that were leaning slightly to the left. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a creature about a head shorter than the Potters, with a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard, and very long fingers and feet.

“What do you suppose it is?” Harry hissed to his sister.

“I dunno,” she whispered back. “Maybe a – a gnome? Or a dwarf? Those could be real, right?”

“I don’t see why not,” Harry said nervously as they began to approach the building. The children were worried that the creature might try and stop them from coming in, like Tom the Barman had, but he just bowed them inside, and now they faced another pair of doors, silver this time, with an inscription written upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed._

_For those that take, but do not earn_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry and Heather looked at one another and swallowed heavily. That was quite a stern warning.

Another pair of the creatures who stood on either side of the silver door bowed them through as the first one had, and now they were in a vast marble hall, where about a hundred more beings were sitting on high stools behind long counters, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses, and talking to other witches and wizards. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and more maybe-gnomes-maybe-dwarves were showing people in and out of them.

As they stepped towards the counter, a woman holding on to a giggling child’s arm rushed past them. They could hear her saying, “Merlin, Seamus, how many times do I have to tell you _not_ to antagonise the goblins?!”

Harry and Heather looked at each other triumphantly. Goblins! The creatures were goblins! Thank goodness; they had _not_ wanted to ask about something like that.

The twins took a deep breath. Heather took their tiny vault key out of her pocket. They stepped up to a free goblin, who glanced up from his book of numbers with a sigh.

“Can I help you?” he said.

“Yes, we need to make a – a withdrawal,” said Harry, placing the key on the goblin’s book, which he could hardly reach. He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

“And we would like to see an account balance, if we could.” Heather added. She was glad they had learned about banking and how to balance check books and accounts the previous year in school, even though she’d thought it was a terribly silly thing to teach ten-year-olds at the time. But now Heather was pretty certain she was saying the right things.

The goblin picked up their key and examined it, then stared at them.

“You are the Potter children?” he said quietly.

“Yes,” they said softly, suddenly apprehensive, moving to touch their arms together and both wondering at his surprised-sounding tone and half thinking he would declare them impostors or something of the sort, or perhaps say they had stolen the key.

Instead, he closed his book with a loud THUD, and turned around, disappearing from view behind the tall counter.

“Come this way!” they heard him call, and Harry and Heather quickly ran around to the other side and followed him through a door. It led into a large, handsome office with two large arm chairs, a desk, some bookcases against the walls, a window that looked out over the rest of the street, and another, taller, chair behind the desk. The goblin gestured for them to sit in the armchairs, and went behind the desk himself. He snapped his fingers, and a scroll appeared out of thin air. The twins jumped.

“Let’s see – well, you have a balance of about one million Galleons in your personal vault…”

Harry and Heather both gaped. They didn’t know what Galleons were, but that sure sounded like a lot. The goblin apparently took their shock for confusion and clarified, “One Galleon is equal to about £4.97. There are also Sickles and Knuts. Seventeen silver Sickles to one gold galleon, and four hundred and ninety-three bronze nuts to a Sickle.”

Heather counted on her fingers quickly, drew invisible figures in the air and added everything up carefully before she finally came to a conclusion.

“Wait – so you’re saying that we have four million nine hundred and ten pounds worth of…wizard money?”

“Approximately,” the goblin said, going back to his scroll. The twins felt rather faint. So much for worrying about getting a place to live!

“Now, traditionally personal vaults are not combined, unless one marries and chooses to do so, but your parents felt it would be easier this way. Personal vaults contain nothing but money, however your High Vaults and your Family Vaults, as well as your High Family Vault, are all still separate, though close together.”

“Wait,” said Harry, holding up his hand, “What’s the difference between a High Vault and a Family Vault and a High Family Vault?”

“I mean, they all kinda sound the same…” agreed Heather, feeling a bit overwhelmed. They had not covered this in primary school, that was certain.

“Your Family Vault contains your parent’s personal funds, and some of their belongings,” the goblin explained patiently, “Your High Vault contains the funds of your entire family. You see, all of the direct Potter line is deceased, save you two. Therefore, all the gold your grandparents, great-grandparents, great aunts and uncles, first cousins, and so on have collected over the years was put in the High Vault, and eventually handed down to you two.” He shuffled some papers around. “Now, the High Family Vault is the oldest, most important, and most valuable of all your vaults. It contains no gold, but deeds to the many, many Potter properties, papers relating to all investments and business shares and stocks, magical artefacts like Pensieves and ancient Sneakoscopes, broomsticks and crystal balls, Heirloom Wands, family jewels, and other miscellaneous items.”

Harry and Heather were staring, wide-eyed, at the goblin. They not only had millions, possibly billions of pounds of wizard gold in several different vaults in this bank, but they had magical devices and owned many properties and stocks. And who knew what else could be in that vault?

Harry and Heather’s elbows touched on their armrests.

‘ _We can do whatever we want in this world.’_

‘ _We can change everything if we choose.’_

‘ _Doesn’t wealth always equal power?’_

‘ _I suppose.’_

‘ _And even if not, we have power too. Look at what we did to the Dursleys.’_

‘ _Ha ha. Good point.’_

They looked at each other for several long moments. The goblin waited patiently. Then they both broke away, turned to the goblin, rested their elbows on his desk, and said, together, “Tell us more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2018 - All chapters are being edited and re-uploaded at the moment. A new chapter should be out soon!


	4. Chapter 3: What They Left Behind – Diagon Alley Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little warning: this chapter contains detailed descriptions of inherited items that now belong to Harry and Heather. It's kind of necessary, but feel free to skip this parts if you want to! 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left kudos and bookmarked! Please review if you've got a chance :)
> 
> (If anyone would be willing to be a beta reader, please let me know!

*

_You said_

‘ _we were born with nothing,_

_And we sure as hell have nothing now’_

_You said_

‘ _we were born with nothing,_

_And we sure as hell have nothing now’_

_These are the things_

_The things we lost_

_The things we lost in the fire, fire, fire_

*

**Chapter 3: What They Left Behind – Diagon Alley Part II**

_**Previously:** _

‘ _We can do whatever we want in this world.’_

‘ _We can change everything if we choose.’_

‘ _Doesn’t wealth always equal power?’_

‘ _I suppose.’_

‘ _And even if not, we have power too. Look at what we did to the Dursleys.’_

‘ _Ha ha. Good point.’_

They looked at each other for several long moments. The goblin waited patiently. Then they both broke away, turned to the goblin, rested their elbows on his desk, and said, together, “Tell us more.”

 

At their words, the goblin gave a smirk, but the children didn’t think it was a nasty one. It seemed more like he was…proud of them, or impressed, or something.

“Very well,” he said. He began to unfurl a length of parchment, but then paused. “Pardon me, but I neglected to introduce myself. I am Kagamn Gbun of the Warcut Clan. I am three hundred and eighty-seven years old, and the only one of my family to choose to work ‘for wizards’, as we would say,” he eyed them seriously, “We do not usually introduce ourselves in full to witches and wizards. Goblins usually only produce their first names, if they give a name at all, but among each other and other creatures, it is customary to give our full name, clan name, age, and a personal detail. It’s a symbol of trust, and has been a tradition among our kind for hundreds of years. But we don’t generally trust wizards, you see.”

Harry and Heather nodded sincerely, taking this for the honour it was. They looked at each other, then introduced themselves (even though he already knew their names).

“I’m Harry James Potter. I’ll be eleven in five days,” said Harry. He wracked his brain to think of an interesting titbit about himself that was actually different from his sister, before settling on, “I can’t see up close or far away without my glasses.”

Kagamn bowed his head in acceptance, and Heather nodded at her brother approvingly.

“I’m Heather Calla Potter,” she said, “I’ll be eleven in five days, too. My middle name, Calla, is also a type of lily. I guess that’s because our mum’s name was Lily.”

Kagamn smiled at them kindly.

“Well done, especially for a pair of wizards,” he said, and the twins thanked him.

“Now, firstly I think we should speak of your inherited properties and businesses. I can give you a report listing your stocks and investments, the amount that that was initially put into them, what the amount is now, and the current sale price, if you wish?”

The twins nodded, and Heather said, “That would be lovely, thank you.”

Kagamn adjusted his small glasses.

“Then, I believe we should go to your High Family Vault, where I can explain some of your possessions to you. Some things, like the Heirloom Wands and some of the jewels, you may want to take with you, and some you can have arranged to be delivered to your home, if you wish it. There is some furniture and a fair few heavy items.”

He put down his list for a moment and frowned at them.

“Where do you two live? The bank informs me that you no longer reside at –” he looked back down at his papers “– Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England?”

The twins gaped.

“The _bank_ told you that?!” Harry exclaimed.

Kagamn smiled slightly, “The bank has a mind of its own, Mister Potter – just as the great Hogwarts Castle itself does. It keeps track of the addresses of our patrons so that we know where to send bills, funds, and statements. It does so automatically.”

“Oh,” Harry said, frowning. He glanced at the wall of the room, half expecting it to grow eyes and wink at him.

“Well, we just left Surrey – our aunt and uncle’s place, I mean,” said Heather, “We were hoping to find somewhere to live in the Wizarding World…”

“Well, that should not be too difficult,” said Kagamn, “As you have many properties to choose from that you already own. Let’s see….there’s Potter Castle in North Scotland, Potter Palace near Toulouse, France, Sally-in-the-wood Mansion, which I believe belonged to a great aunt and uncle of yours, in Berlin, Germany. There is Liontooth Manor, which was used by your great-great grandparents, in Birmingham, England. Half-Crown Castle was your great-grandparent’s home, and it’s near Nantes, France. Stone Heights Manor is near Dover, England, and Potter Manor – where I believe your father, James, grew up, is near London, England. Candleclear is a cottage your grandparents retired to – it’s in Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon. There’s Robin Grass Wheel House, which is in Southwest Ireland, and South View, which I think belonged to a great-great aunt and is located in Wales. Rose Cottage belonged to a cousin of yours and his family; it’s near Cork, Ireland. Hogsmeade Glenn is an ancient ancestral home in Hogsmeade, Scotland, near Hogwarts castle. There is a flat here in Diagon Alley, above the shop called Scribbulus, room number 5A. And lastly…there is Godric’s Hollow Cottage.”

At this, Kagamn put down his papers and looked at them closely.

“That was where you lived with your parents, and where they…passed away,” he furrowed his brow. “I don’t suppose you know what actually happened that night?”

The twins shook their heads.

“We have a letter from someone called Albus Dumbledore that was written to our aunt after our parents died, but it doesn’t explain much. It just says that they were killed by someone called ‘Voldemort’, and that maybe one of us…I don’t know, defeated him or something.” Harry said, producing the letter. Kagamn took it and examined it, frowning.

After a moment, he handed it back to Harry, nodding.

“Indeed, he didn’t explain much,” he adjusted his glasses again. “But I can tell you the full story, if you’d like?”

“Yes, please!” the twins said together. They were desperate for answers, like they had been their whole lives. Now that they found themselves on the verge of getting some, they felt terrified – of what they would learn about this new world, and about themselves, and about their parents. But their fear was vastly overwhelmed by their need to _know_ , at last.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know the entire story myself,” Kagamn said with a frown. “In fact, Albus Dumbledore may be the only person in the world who does, but I’m sure I know at least as much as the rest of the Wizarding World does.”

“The rest…?” Heather questioned, confused.

“Common knowledge is this:” said Kagamn, splaying his hands on his desk and leanings slightly towards them, “On the night of October the thirty-first – Hallowe’en, obviously – of nineteen eighty one, the Dark Lord came to your home in Godric’s Hollow, which is a village made up of both witches and wizards and Muggles.”

“…Muggles?” asked Harry hesitantly, “I mean, we got a letter that mentioned that they’re not wizards or witches, but we don’t really know completely what it means…”

“Muggles are, indeed, non-magical humans,” Kagamn explained. “Muggles have no magical blood in them, and humans who have magical blood but no magical powers are known as Squibs.”

Harry and Heather nodded in understanding.

“Go on,” Heather said eagerly, scooting forward on her seat.

“Well, the Dark Lord had a known vendetta against your parents,” the goblin continued, folding his long fingers together, “He asked them several times to join his side, but they refused. They were quite gifted young wizards, and he wanted them on his side greatly. After the third refusal, it became clear that the Dark Lord would not accept a negative answer again. Your parents went into hiding in the cottage at Godric’s Hollow a short time after you two were born. Few people knew the location, and even less were able to gain access. However, the person your parents trusted to keep this secret under a magical oath betrayed them to the Dark Lord.”

Harry and Heather gasped, and both of them now had tears in their eyes at the thought of their parents being betrayed by someone they’d trusted. Kagamn looked at them gravely.

“Albus Dumbledore would not approve of my telling you this,” he said gently, “But I believe you have a right to know as much as everyone else, since I cannot tell you more than that.”

Harry and Heather’s arms touched again, and they looked at each other, each noting that the other’s face was pale.

‘ _This doesn’t make any sense.’_

‘ _Yeah. None of it does.’_

“Why was the school headmaster in charge of where we went?” Harry asked for them both aloud.

“Why wouldn’t he tell everyone the whole story?”

“Why would our parents’ friend tell where we all were?”

“What happened to him after?”

“Where is this Voldemort guy now?” Harry asked, and Kagamn flinched, just slightly.

“And why haven’t you said Voldemort’s name at all?” Heather finished, rather suspiciously. The goblin gulped, a slightly nervous expression on his face.

“Well, to answer your last question, no one in our world says his name,” Kagamn said, “We call him He Who Must Not Be Named or You Know Who or the Dark Lord. And, well, we tend to not say it because there is still great fear around his existence. You see, on the night your parents were killed, He Who Must Not Be Named tried to kill the two of you as well.”

Harry and Heather were now sure their eyes would never un-widen again.

“But…we were just babies.” Heather said at last, and Kagamn’s face turned sad.

“That sort of thing never mattered to the Dark Lord,” the goblin said darkly. “He killed whole families – Muggles, wizards, goblins, werewolves; it didn’t matter to him. If you got in his way, or refused to side with him, or caused trouble, that was it. No one ever lived once he decided to kill them. No one except you two.”

Again Harry and Heather inhaled sharply. They couldn’t believe what they were hearing.

“Then – then how _did_ we survive?” Harry asked at last.

“No one is quite sure,” said Kagamn, his folded hands rising to rest under his chin. Then he frowned and added, “He fired the Killing Curse at you two, and…something went wrong.” Harry and Heather gasped. “His body was never found; only a bundle of his robes on the floor of the nursery in your home. That’s how you two got those scars,” Kagamn gestured to their foreheads. “The backlash of the curse, I suppose.”

“So…is that why people know so much about us?” asked Harry, reaching up to touch his scar without consciously realising it. “Because we survived?”

Kagamn nodded. “Yes, because you survived, but also because you seem to have killed one of the most powerful wizards ever to exist in our world.”

“We…wow,” Heather said, feeling a bit numb. “Just…wow.”

“How could we have done that, though?” Harry asked.

“The general belief is that his killing curse somehow rebounded off of you two and destroyed him instead.”

The twins gaped.

“And, you see, no one ever lived once the Dark Lord decided to kill them,” Kagamn said, leaning forward. “I cannot stress this enough. He killed many, many powerful full-grown wizards – your parents were exceptional wizards themselves. The Killing Curse itself is unblockable and has a hundred percent fatality rate. No shield can deflect it, and no magic can save you from death once it hits you. And no one has made it out alive. No one, ever. Except you two.”

Harry and Heather stared, breathing heavily, trying to digest all of this. Their arms touched again.

‘ _I…I can’t believe this.’_ Heather thought.

‘ _This is…God, this is mad.’_ Harry agreed.

‘ _We’re wealthy wizards – ’_

‘ _Our parents were murdered by a powerful evil wizard, who – ’_

‘ _Then tried to kill us, and failed, and was – ’_

‘ _Destroyed. By the two of us. When we were babies.’_

They looked at one another again, and took a deep breath.

“However,” Kagamn suddenly added, “Many believe that he is not dead, that he is merely striped of his power, his body gone but his soul living on.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, making it messier than usual. Heather rubbed her temples.

“This is…”

“A lot to take in,” said Harry, finishing for his sister.

“Indeed it is,” Kagamn nodded. “It may take awhile for this to sink in, but for now let us focus on the things that make sense – why don’t you two pick which vault you would like to visit first?”

Harry and Heather sighed in relief, glad for the short break from all of this stunning new information.

“Well, you suggested the High Family Vault first, so let’s go there,” Harry said, and Heather nodded her agreement.

“Very well,” said Kagamn, closing his books and setting down his papers. He climbed off his chair and gave the Potter children a small and rare smile.

“Follow me,” Kagamn said, opening the door and beckoning them out first. They walked around the counters, taking the nearest vault access door. Usually, Kagamn didn’t take customers to their vaults himself, but he was rather fond of the Potter twins, and could tell that they needed all the information and advice he could give.

The three of them clambered into the cart and Kagamn instructed them to hold on. Suddenly they were zooming through the catacombs to vault 23.

The two children gasped at the speed of the mine cart. They grabbed one another’s hands – not so much out of fear, but excitement. This was what the imagined being on a roller coaster would be like. The cart seemed to know its own way, because Kagamn wasn’t steering.

‘ _Left, right, right, centre, left, left, right…’_ Harry calculated in his head, and Heather laughed aloud when he got confused and lost track.

‘ _That’s probably the point,’_ she thought, _‘Remember the poem? It’s supposed to be hard to navigate.’_

‘ _I suppose,’_ Harry agreed. _‘Hey, look at that!’_

He pointed below them, and Heather leaned over to see a large underground lake.

‘ _Wow!’_ she thought. _‘That’s amazing! But wait – Harry, look!’_ she cried suddenly, pointing down and to their right. There was a quick burst of flames coming from one of the corridors.

“Was that a dragon?” Harry asked Kagamn aloud, his eyes wide and excited, “Are dragons real? Are there dragons in here?”

Kagamn laughed.

“Yes, they are indeed real. We use them as extra security near some of the vaults.”

After a few more minutes, the cart came to a stop. Kagamn climbed up onto the narrow pathway that was dotted with huge doors every few feet, and beckoned Harry and Heather to follow.

“Could you hand me that lamp, please?” he asked Harry, and Harry quickly grabbed the lamp from the front of the cart and handed it to him.

“All right, this is Vault 23 – your High Family Vault,” he said, gesturing to the metal door before them. “All you need to do is run your fingers up the wall right here,” Kagamn said, outlining the paths without touching the door. “If anyone but a Potter touched it, they would be sucked inside, trapped.” He gestured the nervous children forward, and added, “You must do it at the same time, mind you. I cannot enter until you two do so.”

Harry and Heather gulped. “Okay…” they said together, and they ran their fingers down the door carefully.

There was a series of loud metallic clicks, like several dozen locks opening. Slowly, the door retreated into the floor, and red smoke poured out. The twins coughed, and as it cleared, they gasped so hard they coughed again.

Inside the vault were piles of jewels and scrolls, stacks of large books, rows of old, ornate furniture and paintings, piles of broomsticks, dozens of gizmos and gadgets, and many things Harry and Heather had no name for.

“Wow…” Heather breathed. “Is all this really _ours_?”

“Of course!” Kagamn said, smiling again. “Here,” he produced two large, handsome leather bags. “You can put almost anything small enough to go through the opening in here, and it will never get heavier.”

The children took the bags, gaping at them.

“That’s amazing…” Harry breathed.

“Thank you!” said Heather, beaming.

“And any of the larger things you decide to take can be sent to your home, once you choose one,” said Kagamn, gesturing towards the piles of furniture.

 

 

For once, Harry and Heather split up, each taking their new bags in a different direction.

They elected not to focus on the furniture for now – that could wait until they had chosen a place to live. Without consulting one another, the twins both decided they would grab whatever caught their eye that was small enough to fit, like Kagamn had said.

There were two large jewellery boxes on display on either side of the room, each neatly labelled. On Heather’s side were seven rings, two pairs of earrings, one necklace, a bracelet, and a watch.

The topmost ring was gold with a large crest in the middle – an intricate design of a shield with a lion on it. The card under it read _Heir of Family Ring; Female._

The next – and Heather caught her breath as she saw it – was a gold ring designed in a vine-like shape, with leaves branching off and five small jewels were flowers might be – pink, dark blue, red, pale blue, and purple. But although this was stunning, the card beneath it was what truly shocked her. _Lily Potter’s Engagement Ring._ Heather carefully ran her fingertip over it, noting that none of the items in this box were tarnished or dusty, even though it must have been a decade since they were touched.

Next to this was a very ancient looking ring, made of either dark gold or bronze, with tiny, almost-clear jewels surrounding a large square amethyst in the center. Its card said _Potter Heirloom; For Transportation to Potter Castle (password: Leonem)_.

Beside this was a delicate golden ring, braided on the back, with tiny flower designs on the top, some with bright jewels in the centers. This, Heather saw, was her mother’s as well. _Lily Potter’s ring; a Present from James Potter at age 17._

The next item was a smooth silver ring with an oval-shaped red stone in the centre, accented by small diamonds and labelled _Ruby Heirloom Ring_. Next to this was a thick silver ring with a large round yellow gemstone Heather couldn’t name in the center, framed by waves of gold that looked like a crown. The sides of the housing of the jewel, as well as part of the bad, were slightly hollowed out and painted black, with curving gold designs inside. It said _Potter Heirloom; For Some Deal of Extra Protection_. The last ring was gold with a strip of copper in the middle, surrounding a large oval stone that was green with what looked like a white flower set deep inside it. This said _Potter Heirloom; For Some Extra Boost of Power_. The next ring was silver, with a square top upon which a pyramid-shaped opal sat, accented by a small diamond embedded on each of the four corners. The card read _Family heirloom ring, traditionally worn by the eldest Potter woman_.

Under these sat the two pairs of earrings, both of which hung down, and one of which were silver with a black background and the same lion crest as the first ring set in the middle – _The Potter Crest Earrings._ The others, amazing were Lily’s as well, like the rings. They were gold and in the shape of a lily flower, with small pearls dotting the centres, as if they were the middles of the flowers. _Lily Potter’s Earrings, Fashioned out of Heirloom Gold & Commissioned by James Potter as a Wedding Gift._

Heather’s ears were not pierced, she realised as she stroked one finger over the lilies and rubbed her left earlobe with the other. They would be soon, though; that was for certain.

There was a necklace that matched the earrings: gold as well, with the lily plant and a pearl in the middle, but instead of being fastened by a hook, the chain was made to slip through a small, simple design of a branch with leaves. This was labelled almost exactly like the earrings: _Lily Potter’s Necklace, Fashioned out of Heirloom Gold & Commissioned by James Potter as a Wedding Gift_

Next was the strangest looking watch Heather had ever seen. It was a rose gold picket watch, and instead of numbers had twelve different planets – or moons – floating near the edges where a number would be. There were at least 7 different hands, all moving at different speeds, and this placard read Potter Heirloom Watch: _Female; Formerly Lily Potter’s Watch, Given at the Time of her Wedding._

The last item nearly made Heather cry, which wasn’t an easy thing to do. It was a silver charm bracelet that was absolutely covered with different charms; a heart, a bicycle, a camera, a key, a diary, a tiny castle, and more. _Lily Potter’s Childhood Bracelet; Given by her Parents at Age 6._

 

Heather gathered them all up immediately. Across the room, Harry was looking into his own box. He had seven rings, two bracelets, a necklace, and a watch, and all had little cards under them as well.

At the top, just as with his sister’s, was an heirloom ring. It was very dark bronze, with five diamond studs ringed in gold around both sides of the rectangular center where the same lion crest sat. _Heir of Family Ring; Male_ , it said.

Under it was a light gold ring, rectangular all around, but smooth and curved on the sides and flat in the middle, with another line of five diamonds going up diagonally, four large blue sapphires following the same way, and then five more diamonds under that. Harry gaped at the card beneath it: _James Potter’s Wedding Ring_.

Next, in worn gold with a large black onyx in the middle was labelled _Potter Heirloom; For Transportation to Potter Castle (password: Leonem)_. Beside this was another older looking ring, this one bronze with a small gold triangle with the label ‘P’ over a blue and red gem in the middle. This said _James Potter’s Childhood Ring._

Next there was bright silver ring shaped rather a lot like a washer, or a stop sign; it was in the shape of a pentagon. A beautifully detailed and ornate golden dragon curved around it, a diamond clenched in its teeth and a ruby sparkling in its eye. _Dragon Heirloom Ring_ , it read.

Next was a silver ring with an inset design of golden Celtic knots in the middle. Just like one of Heather’s, it said _Potter Heirloom; For Some Deal of Extra Protection_. The next was larger, bronze with more loops of Celtic knots surrounded a blood-red gemstone: _Potter Heirloom; For Some Extra Boost of Power._

Next were the two bracelets: one was gold, and was mostly a chair except for a space about an inch long that was a plain sliver of gold with tiny diamonds running the length of it. The one beside it was a thin silver cuff about a half-inch or less in diameter; this bracelet, like two of the rings, had a Celtic knot design on it; Harry began to wonder if their family was partially Irish when he saw the cards for both of these: the gold one read _James Potter’s Necklace, Fashioned out of Heirloom Gold & Commissioned by Lily Potter as a Wedding Gift. _The silver one read _James Potter’s Childhood Bracelet; Given by his Parents at Age 6._

Harry swallowed hard and turned to the last two items. One was a steal crest on a matching chain – the same crest that was on his ring, The Potter Crest Necklace. Lastly, there was the strangest looking watch Harry had ever seen. It was a bronze picket watch, and instead of numbers had twelve different planets – or moons – floating near the edges where a number would be. There were at least 7 different hands, all moving at different speeds, and this placard read _Potter Heirloom Watch: Male; Formerly James Potter’s Watch, Given at age 17._

 

At the same time as his sister, Harry scooped up each of the items and turned towards Heather. When they locked eyes, they both simultaneously ran for each other, pressing together as if embracing, but with their hands still clenched around their items. Both siblings pressed their faces against one another’s necks and just breathed, crying silently and trading thoughts and images of the things they clutched between their bodies.

 

 

Kagamn gave them plenty of time, and when the twins separated and rubbed their eyes, he stepped a bit closer.

“All of those items will fit you automatically, once you put them on,” he said softly, “And as you two are the only inheritors…it would be fitting for you to wear everything you each have. The Protection, Power, and Transportation rings are especially important.”

The twins gave him a nod and immediately began pulling everything on. Since they both had seven rings total, they both knew they wouldn’t necessarily be wearing all of them constantly. However, right now they needed to have everything on. Harry helped Heather fasten her charm bracelet and lily necklace, and in turn Heather helped her brother with his gold bracelet and the crest necklace.

Stepping back and looking at one another for a long moment, the twins began to smile brighter and brighter.

“What else would you two like to look at today?” Kagamn prodded gently, and the twins let their arms touch, thinking.

“I think we’ll leave all of the big items here until we’re sure of where we’re going to stay,” Heather said, voicing aloud what they’d decided earlier.

“And we’ll leave the more…complicated things until we know a bit more about what they’re for,” Harry added, taking in a wall upon which hung several mirrors marked ‘Foe-Glass’, inside which shadowy figures moved, and a table that held several ‘Sneakoscopes’.

“Indeed, a good choice.” Kagamn agreed. The twins paused for a moment, but they both knew what they would say next.

“You said there are heirloom wands – where are those?” Heather asked.

“And what, exactly, are they?” Harry agreed; there had been a wand shop outside, and their letters had instructed them to purchase some wands, so it couldn’t be that everyone had access to these heirloom items – could it?

“Heirloom wands are simply ancient wands passed down in a family – usually the most unique or rare wands will be kept, rather than being buried with the witch or wizard in question,” the goblin said, leading them to a podium near the middle of the room. “These are all of your family’s current heirloom wands – even amongst old and pure-blooded families, they are rather rare.”

Upon the podium was a cushion, and on the cushion were three wands. Harry and Heather each grabbed one at random, and then Harry grabbed the other, and they tucked them into their bags. They were starting to feel eager about what was coming next – collecting their money from one of the other vaults, choosing a place to live, buying their new things…

Kagamn smiled, understanding, and beckoned them towards the door. The children both then realised they were still holding their strange watches, and quickly pocketed them.

“Would you care to make a withdrawal from your Family Vault, now?” he asked as they all climbed back into the cart.

“Yes, please,” said Harry, and Heather nodded.

Several crazy turns later, they were at vault 687, which looked more ordinary than the last – there was a hole in the center, just the size of their small key. When Kagamn nodded, Heather inserted and turned it, and this time she and Harry didn’t cough at the ensuing smoke. They did, however, gasp again as mountains upon mountains of gold were reviled. The twins looked at each other, looked at the piles of coins, looked at a smirking Kagamn, and back again. Then they both darted in.

True to what Kagamn had said, their bags never got any heavier, no matter how much they piled in. However, when they roughly counted what they had grabbed and did some math, they realised that – unless the exchange rate in the Wizarding World was unbelievably high – they had _plenty_ of money.

Kagamn chuckled good-naturedly as they climbed back into the cart with him, and once again they were racing off – this time towards the surface. The twins were at once even more distracted and exceedingly excited. This was still amazingly fun, but now they had a hundred and one other things to look forward to – just in the immediate future.

But there was something else, too. Something else that they couldn’t help thinking about, that gnawed at their brains…


	5. Chapter 4: A How-To Book for the Real World – Diagon Alley, Part III

*

_I don't mind_

_Letting you down easy_

_But just give me time_

_If it don't hurt now, just wait, just wait awhile_

_You're not the big fish in the pond no more_

_You are what they're feeding on_

_So what are you gonna do when the world don’t orbit around you?_

_So what are you gonna do when nobody wants to fool with you?_

*

**Chapter 3: A How-To Book for the Real World – Diagon Alley, Part III**

And then they were stopping, exiting the cart, going up the stone steps and out into the bank. Wordlessly the siblings followed Kagamn back to his office. The door shut automatically behind them, and the twins both turned to the goblin and said, “We need to know everything.”

Kagamn was clearly taken by surprise. Before he could do more than open his mouth to speak, Harry continued.

“If we, supposedly, have this great power, and everyone knows about it –”

“– then not only do we have a lot to live up to, but we need to be able to protect ourselves, most likely.”

“We have to know everything that we can possibly learn before we go to Hogwarts –”

“– and we need to know now.”

Both children assumed identical poses.

“We need help.”

“But not just any help. We need people we can trust –”

“– and people who won’t spread it around that we’ve left our relatives house.”

Kagamn’s mouth opened and closed for several moments, but at last he said, “You’re both quite right indeed. Very bright, I must say. Brighter than I am, because I should have thought of that as well.”

The twins smiled at the compliment.

“One thing we need the soonest is someone who can help us shop,” said Heather. “We can get everything on our lists, surely, but we also need to know what types of extra books we should buy, what type of clothes we should wear…”

“Not to mention help with other supplies, like cauldrons and paper and pens, but also in learning any other things we’ll need to know about the Wizarding World.” Harry finished.

Kagamn nodded thoughtfully, his long fingers coming up to stroke his chin.

“Well I, of course, would be honoured to be one of your confidants,” he said sincerely, and the twins smiled almost shyly. “And I will not, of course, tell anyone you have left Surrey; not only would I never do such a thing, but the magic of the bank forbids it.

“However, I am not allowed to leave Gringotts during work hours, and the two of you being seen wondering around Diagon Alley with a goblin will merit more questions than we need.”

Harry and Heather frowned. They should have realised that.

“But,” the goblin said slowly, “I have a feeling that the two of you will be able to handle this on your own. For today. Meanwhile, I will carefully construct a list of contacts for the two of you.”

Heather nodded, and Harry added, “Thank you so much.”

Kagamn smiled and stood up, heading for the door. The twins followed.

“I don’t suppose you’ve picked out a home yet?” he asked, and the siblings looked at each other.

“Actually, we have,” said Harry, “We’re going to stay at our flat at that shop you mentioned – Scribbulus.”

“Very good,” Kagamn said, nodding and opening the door. “I will update your files accordingly.”

The Potters stepped out of the door, and suddenly felt very nervous about leaving Kagamn's presence. He had shown them more kindness than any other person had, and he was _familiar_ , by now.

He smiled in a way that was both happy and sad.

“I’ll send along those reports for you, now that you’ve chosen your home,” he said. “Do come and visit once in awhile, will you?

“Of course we will!” Heather said, and Harry nodded eagerly. There was nothing left to do but thank the goblin and shake his hand, and then the twins, with their bags in one hand and the others clasped together, left the bank and stepped back out onto the street.

 

 

Perhaps it was just the fact that they knew so much now, but Diagon Alley almost seemed familiar to them. They spotted the robe shop and grinned at each other, their excitement growing again, and then sprinted over to the doors.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve who hurried the children inside.

“Hogwarts as well, dears?” she asked, and both Harry and Heather affirmed this. “Right this way then!”

She led them into the shop to where five podiums and several mirrors stood together. In the back, against the wall, were three fitting rooms.

A pale boy with white–blond hair and a pointed face was standing on one of podiums wearing black robes full of pins.

“Just put these on and stand up there.” Madam Malkin said, handing them each a bundled-up robe. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

She stuck more pins in the boy’s robe as the twins pulled on theirs. They glanced at the boy, then at each other. Both of them were thinking along the same lines: could this be their first chance to make a friend like them, one who wouldn’t be chased off by their cousin, one who understood having special abilities? They sat down their bags and stood on the podiums, pulling on the long robes and glancing at each other nervously.

“So you’re new this year too?” the boy asked in a drawling voice.

“Yes,” said Harry, trying to smile. This seemed much scarier than the cart ride through Gringotts.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy continued in that same smooth, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first–years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one anyway and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.”

Harry and Heather were suddenly strongly reminded of Dudley, and they didn’t like it. However, they still wanted to try and make friends, so they kept their minds open and their hands touching – as much for comfort as communication.

“Have you got your own broom?” the boy continued.

“Not yet.” Heather said, thinking about the pile of broomsticks in the High Family Vault but electing not to mention them. They hadn’t even used one yet, after all.

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“Not really.” Harry said, trying to act casual, “Maybe someday, though.” Neither of them had the faintest idea of what ‘Quidditch’ was, but they weren’t about to say this.

“Well I do. Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”

The twins stared at one another as they realised they didn’t know about any of the houses, either. They would have to be very careful not to give themselves away – not just about the fact that they weren’t aware of the housing system, but that they weren’t aware of _anything_ , really – not yet, at least. If they were so well-known, they had to be extremely cautious about how they were perceived, because if they were perceived _wrong_ , word could spread throughout the Wizarding World. They needed to decide how they wanted to portray themselves before giving anything away.

Meanwhile, the boy was looking at them pointedly, his brow furrowed just a tiny bit. They twins got this look often when they thought silently to each other

“Oh, well – I really don’t know.” Harry finally answered.

“I mean, I suppose they’re all good.” Heather said.

The boy stared at the twins for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“Really?” he cried. “You wouldn’t mind being in Hufflepuff? Merlin, I think I’d leave if they put me with that load of idiots! You ask me, Slytherin’s the only decent house. _Perhaps_ Ravenclaw.”

The twins promptly inflated with rage. He had _laughed_ at them, not to mention classified a huge group of students as ‘idiots’ just because of what house they were in.

“Well, no one did ask you, did they?” Harry snapped, “And who are you to decide that Hufflepuffs are all ‘idiots’?”

“You can’t possibly know every person who was ever in that house!” said Heather as they both unanimously decided to act like they knew everything they should about the houses, “And therefore you can’t make that judgement.”

“You don’t get to just decide which houses are ‘decent’!”

“Do you just assume you know everything, then?”

The boy spluttered, as if he couldn’t believe they had dared to talk to him that way. Before he could form words, Madam Malkin gruffly declared him finished, packed up his new robes for him, and he paid before leaving with his purchases, his face red with anger as he let out a haughty sniff.

After this (and Madam Malkin’s heartfelt praise; apparently she was a proud Hufflepuff, and while the twins still didn’t know what this meant, they thanked her modestly) Harry and Heather were done quickly. Just as Madam Malkin had finished collecting the rest of their school uniforms in the right sizes and spelled a couple of robes to fit each of them, Heather nudged her brother and gestured to the varying robes on display in the window. He understood immediately.

“Ma’am?” he asked, and madam Malkin turned to him. “Could we get a couple of robes like those, as well?” he pointed to the ones in question.

“Of course, dear!” she said, and they left their packages on the counter to follow her to the other side of the store, “Everyone needs an everyday robe or two.”

 

In the end, they each picked out three of these robes each. Heather picked out one that was blue with white on the inside, one that was black with purple, and one that was a pearly blue-grey. Harry grabbed a green one, a silver one, and a brown one, and Madam Malkin changed these to their sizes as well.

Heather glanced around the shop as the storekeeper rang up all of their purchases, and then said, “Is there a place in Diagon Alley where we can find normal clothes? I mean, Muggle clothes?”

“There is indeed,” said Madam Malkin as she read Harry their total and the boy began to pick coins out of his money pouch. “ _Witches Stitches_ is just a few stores down, and they sell the bags and trunks you’ll need for school as well. Here,” she jotted something down on a piece of paper and handed it to Heather, “Your measurements, so you can give them right to Genevieve.”

She handed them their change of two sickles and eighteen knuts, and the twins each grabbed a bag and thanked her gratefully.

Harry and Heather looked at each other, then turned in the way the woman had indicated and headed for the gold sign marked _W_ _itches Stitches_ (that did make them laugh a bit). They watched the other witches and wizards around them carefully, and recalled what the rude boy in the shop had been wearing as well. They had to both blend in and stand out; it was a fine line to toe.

The store was surprisingly large inside, and there were a few people wandering around – several were children with parents, obviously getting clothes to wear at school as well.

A woman with dark red hair came up to them. A flashing nametag on her chest read ‘Genevieve’, and Heather handed her Madam Malkin’s note.

“Madam Malkin sent us,” she said as the woman smiled kindly and looked over the paper, “She wrote down all our measurements and said to come to you.”

“Well, she sent you to the right place,” Genevieve said, smiling. “What is it you two are looking for? Gonna need some trunks and bags as well?” she eyed the old canvas bags the twins had taken from the Dursleys.

“Yes, we will,” Harry said, then bit his lip and looked at his sister. “And, well, we’re going to need everything. We just left home and are supposed to be getting a whole new wardrobe here, basically.”

He was careful to make it sound like there may be adults involved, and while the woman looked shocked, she also grinned.

“Wonderful!” she said, “Let’s take a look around and see what you like – though it will be hard carrying all this stuff, even if you get one of our extra-large trunks.”

“We live in Diagon Alley,” Heather spoke up, “Could we have our things sent to our flat, for a little more money? We still need to buy our books and other things as well.”

“Of course you can!” Genevieve said. “A very smart idea, yes. Now, where should we start?”

 

It took only two hours, which was actually not very much time, considering, because Harry and Heather were fast and decisive, and Genevieve was kind and helpful – probably due largely to the fact that her commission from this sale would no doubt be huge.

In the end, after mentally going over how much clothing their aunt and uncle owned and what it could all be categorised by and keeping in mind the witches and wizards they had seen around them, the twins filled up their new trunks – one each, Harry’s dark brown and Heather’s light brown. Well, so to speak. Even all they bought didn’t really fill these up, because apparently ‘extra large’ actually mean ‘nearly bottomless and nearly weightless’ just like their money pouches.

The twins got three formal outfits each, five semi-formal outfits that were made to match one another (something they found hilarious and Genevieve found adorable), four individual semi-formal outfits, and six pairs of shoes each, from very formal to everyday. They also added on underthings, pyjamas (which they’d never had), a light, medium, and heavy jacket each, and varying amounts of everyday clothes; pants, shorts, blouses, and shirts.

Genevieve used her wand to direct each item in the correct size into the suitcases they had picked, and then beckoned them over to look at book bags. By now the twins were pretty sure she was just trying to milk them for as much as she could, but they had plenty and they were getting things they needed, so they didn’t mind. They both grabbed large leather satchels and immediately put their money bags inside them. They were heading up to the front when Heather spotted a sign that read ‘LIBRARY TRUNKS’. She nudged Harry, and they edged closer.

These trunks were the size of the other ones, but when the twins opened the one that lay on the floor, they were shocked to see not shelves or drawers but a _staircase_. A little staircase leading down _into_ the suitcase. Gaping, they peered inside and saw a large room with shelves lining every wall, a large desk and chair at one end, and even a rolling ladder hanging from the top of the bookcases.

“Ah, the library trunks!” Genevieve said from behind them, causing the twins to jump. “Should have mentioned these, yes. A must-have for anyone who loves books, I’d say! And what’s more, you don’t have to climb in to organise every book you put in there; you just drop it inside and it’ll glide over to a shelf.”

The Potters knew a sales pitch when they heard one. They had gone with the Dursleys the day Vernon got his new car.

But they did love books. And they didn’t care.

 

Soon, the twins were leaving the clothing store behind after spending what was probably an obscene amount of money (and no doubt making Genevieve that happiest saleswoman on the planet), backpacks on their backs and the library trunk between them. They would no doubt need it to carry all the books and other things they were about to get, and their regular trunks were soon to be off to their new home (“Scribbulus, flat 5A” Harry had remembered).

Harry and Heather knew they should be tired by now from this utterly insane day, even though it was only just past 2, but apparently the adrenaline high they had been riding since they saw the word ‘wizard’ was still going strong, and they were ready for more.

 

The book store, _Flourish and Blotts_ , was an event all by itself, and if I told you of the countless books they grabbed, looked over, read, and bought, we would all be here for hours. Suffice it to say, the children grabbed their school books, and then found an attendant to help them get caught up with the magical world, explaining that they had been raised by Muggles and wanted to know as much as any ordinary wizard child would. This man seemed less delighted than Genevieve had to lead them around the store and let them buy so many things, but he was very helpful. They picked up popular fiction books, at least seven history books (apparently they were in several; the attendant mentioned their parents’ death and Voldemort's apparent destruction as one of the most important events of the last 100 years; of course, he did this without knowing who they were). It seemed like a good idea to get _Hogwarts, A History_ , _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ and several little how-to books here and there. _Potions to Make at Home_ , _Simple Household Magic_ , and a couple of other items here and there concluded their search, and the older man rang them up, sweating a bit, but didn’t mind at all when they went straight to dump the books into the trunk. There was no sound of thumping or banging, so Harry and Heather decided it had worked.

The frazzled-looking man nodded as they left with a cheery ‘thank you!’ and slumped back against his counter.

 

The next stop was a potion’s shop next door. The children each grabbed the standard cauldron, phials, and scales they needed (also purchasing their Dragonhide gloves there; Heather was relieved to find that dragons _did_ shed their skin and the hides were gathered that way).

The owner seemed to know that this would be their first year at Hogwarts, so he got them each a kit of standard potions supplies before he asked if they needed anything else. Harry and Heather looked at each other and thought of the _Potions to Make at Home_ book.

“Yes, actually.” Harry said, “What ingredients would you recommend for a basic home supply?”

“And what type of cauldron?” asked Heather, “The same as the school one, or different?”

The man didn’t miss a beat.

“Well, you’re gonna want brass for home, and probably standard size two,” he said, grabbing two of the cauldrons in question. “As for basic ingredients, we have a box over there,” he pointed to a corner beside a vat of eel’s eyes, then stepped over and picked up the second-largest box. It looked a bit like a small, sealed-up spice cabinet. “I’d recommend this one, if you’re gonna be sharing it.”

“This looks just right,” Harry observed, weighing the box his hands. Heather agreed.

“Thank you,” she said, and the man replied “You’re welcome” as he handed them their change. The twins were getting more used to the Wizarding money, although it would no doubt be awhile before ‘galleons’ replaced ‘pounds’ in their minds.

Outside the shop, they put the library trunk down and opened it, then carefully lowered one of the cauldrons in by itself. They wanted to make sure it wouldn’t go crashing to the floor before they added all of the delicate glass instruments. The twins watched, grinning, as the trunk floated inside and down onto the desk, like a feather. They added the rest of their things as well, delighting as they all gathered onto the desk together and grinning as well when they saw their books on the shelves.

 

Now there was just one thing to do. Harry and Heather were beginning to feel nervous, but they weren’t about to stop now.

_Ollivander’s – Makers of fine wands since 382BC_

The Potters gaped at the number, but their eagerness to try out actual magic wands won out over their curiosity for the moment, and they entered the shop.

There was one spindly chair inside the room, and a desk at the opposite end. Behind the desk were rows and rows of shelves with rolling ladders around them, just as you might have in a library. Only there were no books, just small, rectangular boxes.

Just as Heather raised her hand to ring the bell on the counter, a man appeared out of one of the isles. He had slightly mad–looking white hair and pale blue eyes. He didn’t seem to need to blink like most humans, but he didn’t seem frightening either – just strange.

He smiled toothily when he saw the twins.

“Ah, the Potter’s…” he breathed, taking out a measuring tape and waving his wand so it began to take their measurements by itself. Harry and Heather managed not to gasp and then tried to stay still as the tape measured them up and down, across, diagonal, around their heads, in between their eyebrows…

“I wondered when I’d see you two…I remember your parents well. Fine, fine people. Good wands too…pity…” he trailed off, staring at the twins for a moment before wheeling around and grabbing boxes.

 

After almost an hour the two children had tried nearly everything in the shop, trading them back and forth so as to save time. Nothing happened, not even once. Ollivander, who at first had seemed excited at the challenge, now seemed nervous and haggard. Harry and Heather were two wands away from breaking down entirely at the thought that maybe, after all this, they really weren’t witches.

“Oh my dears, I do apologise,” Ollivander said, shaking his head and packing the last wand back in its box. “The wand choices the wizard, you know, and nothing here seems to fit you.” The children deflated a great deal. “I suppose I could make you each a wand, but even then –”

Suddenly the man stopped, and it took the twins a moment to notice, because they were looking sadly down at their feet.

“Children,” he said, his eyes glinting again. “Is your family not in possession of several Heirloom Wands?”

The siblings both nodded, feeling their hopes rising again.

“Yes,” said Heather aloud, “And –”

But Ollivander cut her off before she could say that they had those wands right with them.

“Well if you can just collect them – in one of your vaults, I expect, but they could be in safekeeping elsewhere, I’m sure you could find out where – I’m almost certain they’d work for you. Though I’d ask you to let me examine them once you’ve found out, Heirloom Wands are so rare, you see –”

The man was speaking faster and faster, and to save him from possibly hyperventilating, Harry said, just a bit louder than him, “We have the wands right here.”

“Oh!” said Ollivander in a squeak. He looked beyond words. The twins smiled at him, and Harry dug the three wands out of his pouch. Setting two of them on the table, he held his breath and waved the other one.

Nothing happened. Harry tried not to panic and handed the wand to his sister. Again, nothing happened. Ollivander’s eyes were glued to them, as if they were the most exciting television program in the world.

Harry and Heather let their arms brush, and slowly, with trembling fingers, picked up the other two wands. Their arms were still touching, and they lived the utterly unreal next moments together.

The wands were both curled slightly downwards at the bottoms, almost like the start of a circle. The one Harry held was light brown, while Heather’s was darker brown with a dusting of black at the bottom of the handle. Little designs swirled halfway up both of them. They looked elegant and strong.

The wands were freezing in her hands as they took them, but slowly began to warm. Soon, it was like putting your hand in a warm bath; Harry and Heather brought up both wands together and gently flicked them. They could smell something in the air – like ozone. And then…

A jet of light and sparks shot out of the both wands. The twins could see Ollivander shield his eyes eyes, but they stared at the light, feeling the power within them contour and attach with an overwhelming bond to the wands they held.

 _This is mine; it was made_ for _me. It’s been waiting for me all my life and before that, sitting in that vault, waiting for me to be born, and get those letters, and finally be brought to it._

The red, green, yellow, and blue sparks floated towards the floor as the light waned, and suddenly burst into tiny flowers.

Ollivander began to cry. Harry and Heather were speechless.

“That was – oh my, the most amazing sight I’ve ever – not even Albus Dumbledore, or indeed the Dark Lord himself – oh Merlin!”

The twins hesitantly smiled, and when Ollivander looked at their wands like a starving child might look at a sandwich (and they certainly knew that look well), they grinned broadly and each held out their new wands. As Ollivander waved his own wand over them, Harry quickly put the other Heirloom Wand back in his pouch and waited.

“Oh, this – this should be _impossible_ ,” Ollivander breathed, and the twins weren’t even sure if he was talking to them anymore. He waved his wand some more, and what looked like runes danced in the air around the two Potter wands.

After an uncomfortably long amount of time, Ollivander looked up at the children, his face very serious.

“Please, have a seat,” he said, conjuring two more chairs from thin air and sitting down in one across from them. Hesitantly, the twins followed suit.

“You should know, first, that the three typical wand cores are phoenix feather, unicorn tail hair, and dragon heartstring,” he said, looking at the wands reverently. “Sometimes these cores will be combined, and sometimes, though very rarely, and nearly always in Heirloom Wands, there will be other cores.”

He locked eyes with the children.

“I remember every wand I’ve every sold, Mr and Miss Potter. Every single one.” He hesitated. The twins were on the edge of their seats. “In that time I have seen three wands with combined cores, and two other Heirloom Wands, but this – never have I seen or heard of something like this.”

Ollivander leaned forward.

“You wands each have an incredibly rare mixture of three magical cores – all of which are very, very rare – even rarer that they will work together. With the power these wands have, it would have been just as likely for them to blow up this entire shop – or even level all of Diagon Alley – as it was for them to simply shoot out those sparks.”

The children gaped, but Ollivander wasn’t done.

“Each of your wands have two things in common,” Ollivander said, “Both of them have a phoenix feather and a thunderbird feather as part of their cores, and both of these feathers come from the same animals.”

At their confused looks – because were these creatures real, or was everything just a figure of speech? – he elaborated.

“Phoenix tail feather is a popular wand core, as I said, due to its versatility and power. Its main strength lies in Defence Against the Dark Arts, although its adaptability can wrench it to hexes and jinxes if need be.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “Phoenixes, you may know, are birds who are thought to be immortal, for whenever they reach the end of their lives, they burst into flames and are reborn again from the ashes. They can carry immense weight and have tears of healing powers. Extraordinary creatures, really.

“Thunderbirds are flying beasts that can sense danger, and create storms as they fly. They are native to North America, but can be found elsewhere. They are said to reflect the soul of a witch or wizard, and it’s said that the Thunderbird favours adventurers. Its tail feathers create powerful wands, particularly good for Transfiguration.”

Harry and Heather nodded furiously to show they were listening.

Ollivander took a deep breath, then turned to Heather.

“Your wand, my dear, is made of ivy with a Hornbeam handle, 11 inches, Exceptionally Rigid. The other part of its core is Ashwinder egg. An Ashwinder is created when a magical fire is allowed to burn unchecked for too long. They’re snakes, of a sort, and their eggs emanate intense heat before they hatch. The eggs are rather valuable when made into wand cores, but the precision and timing to convert this ingredient into a magical core makes it rather expensive. However, with difficult tasks comes a great result. Ashwinder Egg cores allow great magical leeway for many Conjuration spells – extremely useful for wizards keen in Transfiguration.”

Before Heather could properly react, Ollivander turned to Harry.

“My boy, you wand is made of Dogwood with a Holly handle, 11 ¾, Quite Inflexible Indeed. The other part of your core is that of Boomslang venom, crystallized, which provides a small boost to jinxes and hexes thanks to its venomous qualities. However, when a wandmaker undertakes the dangerous task of working with the raw venom, it is generally with the aim of creating a powerful Transfiguration wand. Whether or not the advantages outweigh the risks is not generally agreed upon in wandmaking circles. Indeed, I have seen only one myself, and the wizard who managed to create it was permanently scarred by the event – though he was quite proud of it.”

Ollivander stood up shakily and ruffled his already messy white hair. “All in all, these have to be the two rarest wands in existence, and I don’t think there’s any doubt as to why they chose the two of you. However…” Ollivander’s voice trailed off, and he muttered something to himself that the twins couldn’t catch. He waved his wand over theirs again, and this time when three little runes came floating up, he gasped so loudly it was nearly a scream, the wands flying out of his hands and his chest heaving. Instinctively, Harry and Heather each caught their wands before they hit the ground.

“What is it?” Harry asked urgently.

“What happened?” Heather said, feeling a bit worried about the old man.

Ollivander panted for a few moments, his hand on his chest. Then, slowly, he said, “You’ll remember that I said phoenixes are immortal?”

The children nodded slowly.

“And that I said that I remember every wand I’ve ever sold?”

Again, they nodded.

“I recognised the phoenix feathers in these wands,” he said, pointing to them with a shaky hand, “Because I’ve sold another wand with a core from the very same bird – just one other. And – and this goes far beyond just ‘curious’ but…that other wand was the one that gave you those scars.”

His gnarled finger pointed at their foreheads, and Harry and Heather stood there, gaping.

“But – but these much be a century old, at least,” Heather whispered. “And Vol –” Ollivander flinched, and Heather amended “He…he would have only been here himself a few decades ago…right?”

It occurred to her that they had no idea how old Voldemort is, or was, and she touched Harry’s arm with her own to share this thought. He shared one back, an intrusive thought that he couldn’t help: it was possible that they were sitting in the same spot that the man who had murdered their parents had occupied all those years before.

“You’re right,” Ollivander continued, not noticing how Harry and Heather shuddered. “Which is what makes it all the more amazing…”

Ollivander straightened up now.

“The wand, as I said, chooses the wizard. It’s not always clear why.” Ollivander leaned forward just a bit, his eyes bright again, “But I think it is clear that we can expect great things from the two of you. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – _terrible_ , yes, but great.”

  



	6. Home (but a real home)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long guys, but thank you all so much for the kudos and comments! Just a warning...this chapter contains a lot of descriptions of rooms. I got pretty detailed. 
> 
> If you guys are interested, I always create a photo album with reference pictures, photos that inspired me, and character pictures as well; I have them uploaded and sync'd online, and if anyone besides me is interested in looking through these pictures, I'll gladly give you guys the link! Chapter five will be up pretty soon as well, so stay tuned!

*  
_So you can damn_  
_And you can hate_  
But I know  
No matter what it takes  
I’m coming home, I’m coming home,  
Tell the world I’m coming home  
*  
**Chapter 5: Home (but a real home)**

It was late afternoon by the time Harry and Heather made it to the building that would be their new home. The owner, Serena Scribbulus, welcomed them gladly.

“Oh, Mr. and Miss Potter, how lovely to meet you!” she said, shaking their hands while beaming as if this was the happiest day of her life. “I got a missive from the bank saying you were moving into your flat here, and I was so thrilled to hear it!”

She danced over to a set of hooks behind the front desk and grabbed a large, copper skeleton key.

“Of course we’ve got it all cleaned up for you – so much dust, my goodness!” she continued, handing the key to Harry, “Naturally, all the furniture is still in there, but feel free to move or change anything you want – it is your home, after all.”

Harry and Heather’s arms touched. _Our home._

“Thank you very much,” Heather managed to say, her voice slightly choked up.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome!” said Serena, “We also took the liberty of bringing up your trunks from Witches Stitches, and I stocked the kitchen with a few essentials, so you don’t have to go shopping right away.”

“Wow, that’s –” Harry didn’t know what to say. “You – I mean, you didn’t have to do that.”

“No, no, it was my pleasure,” Serena said, waving them off, “We always take good care of our tenants, of course. Now, follow me.”

She gestured towards the back of the shop, behind a curtain that separated the store from the private area where there were stacks of boxes, a small kitchenette, a sofa, and a door to their left side that they presumed led to a storage room, or perhaps a bathroom or something of the sort, for Serena pointed them towards another door across from them and led the way. This door was white with large, warped glass windows in the middle. All that could be seen through it were faint shapes and a shock of blue colour. Serena opened the door, revealing a small hallway.

“Across from here,” she said, pointing now to a beautiful, intricate blue door on the other side, “Is the entrance all the tenants use, so you don’t have to go through the shop.” Harry and Heather nodded their understanding. “Your room key will also unlock this door, so no need to keep track of another one. Of course, it’s still completely secure; none of the other tenants’ keys will open your door, and vice versa. Naturally we keep a copy of every room key for emergencies, but those are locked safely away.”

“That’s convenient,” Heather said, impressed with the idea of the magic that must be involved to allow several different keys to open the same lock but not allow them to work in every other door as well – and impressed as well with how seriously Serena took her tenants’ privacy and safety. She brushed her arm against her brother’s to share this thought, and saw Harry nod his agreement. They decided that they liked Serena.

Serena smiled proudly and continued, “To the right –” she gestured to a staircase at the end of the little hallway “– are the stairs leading to all our floors. Behind the staircase, in the door marked with just _A_ , is my home. If there’s ever an emergency after store hours, you should be able to find me there.” The twins nodded their understanding, and silently agreed they liked her even more now. “You two are on the fifth floor, with that floor to yourself and your own set of stairs leading to the sixth floor.”

“We get two floors to ourselves?” Harry asked incredulously. They had never even had two _beds_ , let alone two entire _floors_.

“Yes,” said Serena, “That’s what your family owns. Though I believe the last two people who stayed here were actually friends of your family – but that was years ago.”

That made Harry and Heather want to ask at least fifteen more questions, but at that moment a bell rang inside the shop. Serena jumped a bit.

“Oh dear, a customer,” she said, “Are you two alright with getting up there yourselves?”

“Yes,” said Heather, smiling. Harry agreed immediately, grinning as well. “And thank you again for your help.”

“You’re very welcome,” Serena said with a soft smile, “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

The twins nodded, and with one last grin Serena went back through the white door, closing it behind her.

Harry and Heather stood there in the hallway for a moment.

“Two floors.” Harry managed. Heather nodded, shaking herself in disbelief.

“Well,” she said hesitantly, picking up their library trunk, “I guess we’d better go up.”

Harry nodded, and together they turned and headed up the stairs, passing two doors on either side of each landing. They passed 1A and 1B, 2A and 2B, 3A and 3B, 4A and 4B, and once in awhile they could hear sounds coming from behind the doors – snippets of conversation, the sounds of cooking and bathing, and the murmuring of radios and televisions. They continued from the fourth floor up the last stairway, a bit slower now as nerves swelled within them, but before they knew it they had reached the fifth floor, which had only a single white door upon which hung a metal ‘5A’ made of copper, which matched the intricate but not overtly fancy doorknob.

Harry turned their key with shaking fingers and opened the door, and the Potter twins stepped inside their new home.

This was an entry hall, not very large but holding everything the children thought an entry hall probably should – and then some. To their right was a set of hooks on the wall for hanging one's jacket and a hat stand on the floor beside it. Past these were some feux plants in plain but lovely vases, and a long dark wood bench, which matched the large wooden doors to their left. Harry opened them and found that it was a small closet – presumably for bags and storage and the like. Past the cabinets were a set of double white doors that matched the front door. The children took deep breaths, opened the doors, and stepped inside.

This door led them to a much larger hallway with two opened doorways on either side and two closed doors at the end of the hall. Harry and Heather found themselves nearly in a trance as they walked through their new home. To their right was the kitchen, small but made of beautiful oak with an attached ladder that let you reach the topmost cabinets. Even from the doorway they could seen that Serena had spoken the truth; the cabinets were stocked, and the refrigerator (which the twins were rather surprised at; they had supposed that witches and wizards would keep their food cold by using magic) was humming across the room.

Another open doorway led out of the kitchen and to a dining room which was made of wood panelling painted light green. Minimalist sketches hung in frames along the walls, and the children took a moment to wonder if one of their past relations had drawn them. There was a white-mantled fireplace to the left side, and a built-in set of shelves that held delicate-looking dishes sat between it and a window, which was streaming in the afternoon sun. The table in the middle of the room had chairs for four, and wasn't small but not overly large. It could probably have sat around six or perhaps eight comfortably enough, but only four chairs were set up at the moment. It was made of a deep brown similar to the bench and the cabinets in the entrance hallway.

“Wow,” Harry said in a whisper, running his hand over one of the chairs.

“You’re telling me,” said Heather, walking over to the window and peeking out. Due to the fact that their building was higher than most of the others nearby, they could see a lot around them, including a view of Gringotts.

After a moment, the twins unanimously decided to keep going, and crossed back through the kitchen and out to the hall.

“Which way?” Heather asked, looking between the two doors at the end and the open doorway across from them.

“Let’s try these two first,” Harry suggested, gesturing down the hall, and Heather followed. The hall was panelled similarly to the dining room, but painted a dark crème colour – almost beige. More drawings and some paintings hung on the walls, and there were little shelves every few feet that held small knick-knacks like decorative paperweights, little potted plants, framed pictures, and so on. The twins exchanged a glance and silently decided to examine those pictures later. Something seemed odd about them, but perhaps it was just their imagination.

They were walking down the hall with their eyes on the deep green doors at the end, and so they didn’t see the way several of the pictures on the walls moved, or how many of the plants they had assumed were fake stretched their leaves or branches and swayed slightly in their direction.

When they reached the doors, Heather glanced at her brother, then picked the door to her right and opened it.

Inside was the greenest room the children had ever seen.

It was obviously a formal living room or sitting room; its walls were also panelled wood, but painted a much darker green than the dining room. To the right was a fireplace made from white stone, and on the mantle sat several old and important-looking vases. Above the vases was a large gold mirror with two candelabras sticking out on either side of it. In front of the fireplace were two large velvet armchairs with a dark wood side table between them and a matching coffee table in front. Across from the door were two windows about three feet apart, with sheer white curtains hanging beside them.

“Definitely formal,” Harry said, and Heather chuckled. This was the kind of room they would almost be scared to sit in, for fear of dirtying it. Although, it was their house, so they supposed it didn’t particularly matter. Still, they resolved only to use it for special occasions – whatever those occasions may be. It wasn’t exactly very welcoming, and they doubted it would be relaxing to lounge about in it.

Harry and Heather backed out and shut the door, then turned to the left and opened the next one.

The first thing they noticed was that this room had a lot of light; they had to squint for a moment before they could take it in. It had two large windows on the far right and far left side of the opposite wall, and was painted all white, which contributed to its brightness. At the right end of the room were a set of built-in square cubbies rather than an ordinary wall; they counted five across and six up, meaning a total of thirty cubbies altogether. The lower ones held various papers, folders, and notebooks, while the top two rows were filled with ancient looking books. On the left side of the room was simply an old but well-oiled leather sofa, but between the two windows was a large, handsome double sided desk – made of very dark brown wood, it was long and wide with a lamp to one side and several drawers on the front and back. Two matching chairs with lighter brown leather padding at the back and bottom were pushed up to the desk, and there was plenty of foot room under the table for two adults, which indicated to the children that the extra space beneath was possibly meant to hold more storage items, if one needed it. They stepped closer and saw a stack of formal-looking papers on the otherwise uncluttered desk – their bank statements. For a moment, they wondered if Serena had put them there, or if the letters had perhaps floated inside of their own accord. Either was plausible.

“This must be an office,” Harry guessed, and Heather nodded.

“I like it a lot,” she said, grinning, and Harry said, “Me too.”

Leaving this door open, they left the office and went down the hall towards the unexplored doorway. Inside was a comfortable-looking living room, with one wall lined with more built-in wooden shelves made of the same dark wood as the floor, while the other three walls were painted a medium golden brown. Several windows were scattered around the wall across from the doorway in a seemingly random order; none of these had curtains or blinds, and so there was a complete and amazing view of Diagon Alley before them. In the centre of the room was a brown leather sofa with two arm chairs across from it, one made of red fabric and the other of green leather, and a cushioned coffee table upholstered with a tan and brown tartan pattern sat between them. While nothing in this room explicitly matched, it still managed to go together perfectly. The children immediately loved it.

But the far left corner held the most exciting feature: it was a spiral staircase leading up, and the twins looked at it excitedly.

“Let’s go!” said Heather, and the children beamed and darted up the stairs together.

Upstairs was another hallway, the same crème colour as the one downstairs. There were four closed doors, two to the right and two to the left. At the end of the hall was an opened room without a door. The twins decided to explore this first, and were delighted at what they found.

It was a library, and an amazing library at that.

The walls were painted brown, a shade lighter than the bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling in front of them, on their left side, and on the right wall beside the door. On the far right wall was a large window with olive green curtains, and in front of that was a circular table with a simple candelabra in the centre and several chairs grouped around it. Dotted here and there were comfortable looking armchairs, none of which matched, and a small, plain silver chandelier hung from the ceiling above the table, while two smaller floor lamps sat near the other chairs. It was not huge and not small, but at a just-right size in between that let you feel cosy but not cramped.

Harry and Heather were ecstatic, and by this time they wanted to simply finish their tour so they could start really exploring their home.

As they stepped back into the hall, they realised that they had not seen any bedrooms or bathrooms yet. There were four closed doors here; it was reasonable to assume they led to these rooms.

Harry held his breath and picked the first door to the left of the staircase. He opened it quickly, and gasped.

Inside was a room painted light grey with dark wooden flooring with a woven rug of light red and soft green placed in the middle. Across from the door was a bunk bed painted green and built into the wall, with a small set of shelves on either side and a little desk area under the shelves, complete with tiny lamps and two chairs. The bottom bunk itself had an ordinary bed with a blue comforter over it and another one of the small lights stretching out from the side of the wall, perfect for late-night reading. But the ladder led up to not another bed, but what seemed like a miniature study, with paintings and sketches and posters decorating the wooden sides and small pile of books sitting to the left of the ladder, along with a short desk meant to be pulled over one's lap. Another lamp lit up this area, and both the bottom and the top bunks were just big enough for a small-sized adult to sit up properly in. To the right of the door was a wardrobe and to the left was a dresser, both of which matched the bunk bed in colour, wood, and design, down to the subtle curves and edges and molding. Beside the dresser was a large window framed with light red curtains, which let in enough light so as not to be too dark, but still cosy.

Harry was ecstatic, and Heather was grinning. The room was updated but not overtly modern, warm in colour and with a unique design to it. Without a doubt, this would be Harry’s room.

They rushed to the room next door, which turned out to be a bathroom. It was old and small, but clean and neat. The bottom half of the walls were painted white, while the top was dark brown. A towel rack sat to the side of the toilet, in front of a small window, and next to this was a white sink with a wooden-framed mirror above it, along with a large circular light. There was a bathtub-slash-shower to the left, and a dark grey shower curtain hung on the shower rod beside it.

Harry grinned at Heather, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly. The bathroom was dark and even a bit shabby, but it was charming still, and the obvious age of the fixtures in the room made one stop and consider the history this place clearly held. This was obviously Harry’s bathroom.

At last, they crossed the hall and Heather opened the door nearest to the staircase first.

This was also a bedroom, and now it was Heather’s turn to gasp.  
It seemed small, but that was because it was filled up with large furniture; while Harry’s bunk bed was a double and his dresser and wardrobe were an average size, or perhaps a bit smaller, the bed in this room was queen sized and the dresser and wardrobe were both larger than average, though not giant. The walls were painted light red, and there was a black dresser on the left wall that matched the black wardrobe that sat against the wall to the right of the door. Neither of them were absolute black, however; the paint was scratched and worn and rubbed away in many places, showing the original tan wood beneath – either distressed purposely for decoration purposes or simply old; they couldn’t quite tell. A large silver floor lamp curved up from the ground to hang over the bed, which had at least ten various pillows of different sizes and designs piled on it, and was covered with a beige comforter with decorative red stitching along it. Interestingly, and to the delight of Heather, a bookshelf sat on the walls just below the ceiling and stretched over the window – which sat in the corner behind the head of the bed mere inches from the other wall, dressed with sheer red curtains a bit warmer in colour than the walls themselves – framing the entire room and allowing enough space to hold your average book with a few inches above to spare. More various pieces of art hung all around, and this combined with the bookshelf and the large and oddly-placed window meant that the walls themselves were barely visible. In the corner beside the wardrobe was a large armchair that matched the comforter perfectly, despite its fabric being closer to a crème colour than white and the fact that it was obviously a bit older than the blanket, with worn spots along the edges and patches here and there that looked a bit yellowed with age. On the dark wooden floor a matching rug was spread out, though the red designs on this were bolder and more pronounced than on the chair or bedspread.

Heather nearly squealed in excitement, and now it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes at his sister. This room shared the cosy, warm, and unique design of Harry’s room, though it was a bit darker; this was the kind of place that would make nearly anyone feel, if not at home, than at least comfortable. Obviously this would be Heather’s room.

With one last room to go, Heather darted out of the bedroom and to the room beside it.

This was also a bathroom, with an old-fashioned bathtub and a showerhead above it that was probably just as old. To the right of the tub was a small sink with a gold-framed mirror above it, and matching candelabras on either side (either this home was both in and out of date at the same time or wizards really loved candles; despite the occasional lamps and the chandelier in the library, so far it seemed that there were primarily candles everywhere). Next to the sink was a small blue vanity, and beside this was, strangely enough, a tiny fireplace next to the toilet. The floors were made of the same dark wood as in the two bedrooms, other bathroom, and hall, but three of the walls were painted slate blue while one was painted in crème, which matched the curtains that hung by the bathtub and the ones that framed the small window to the side, in front of which sat another towel rack.

Heather let out a happy huff of breath as she looked around, and Harry smiled. It was eclectic and even a bit confusing, but pretty in its worn, vintage way; it was welcoming. Obviously, this was Heather’s bathroom.

The twins stepped back now and considered everything. Their new key, the hallways, the kitchen, the office, the living room, the sitting room, the study, the library, their own bedrooms and bathrooms…

Their home.

For several long minutes, the twins simply leaned against one another and felt the rings on their fingers, the bracelets on their arms, the necklaces around their necks, the watches in their pants’ pockets. They didn’t even try to stop their tears. This home was theirs, and these items that had been in their family for generations were theirs, and the wands inside their backpacks were theirs, and the two letters from Hogwarts were theirs.  
For the first time, it seemed as if their _lives_ were theirs.


	7. Chapter 6: The Swing of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> //tries not to project too hard on Serena and fails miserably//
> 
> Hey guys! I'm sorry that this chapter took longer than I'd thought, but as this is one of the projects I'm working on for Camp NaNo, I expect more will be forthcoming at a reasonable rate. To make it up to you, this chapter is nearly 10k long.
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains graphic depictions of a very long and arduous shopping trip. Feel free to skim through it if all the necessary and basic items the children have to purchase aren't very important to you :D  
> To see the photos, quotes, and various other pictures that relate to and inspire this story, [follow this link here](https://get.google.com/albumarchive/107602844291212146459/album/AF1QipPeqReLdGBdXuOT4Xou3JlI9UgjRRko5e3TjMgd)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

*

_Everything I say falls right back into everything_

_I’m not_

_In the swing of things_

_But what I really mean is_

_Not in the swing of things yet_

*

**Chapter 6: The Swing of Things**

The first thing to do, once they managed to pull themselves together, was make some dinner, which Heather cooked – vegetables and sausage mixed with some brown rice; they had learned _some_ useful things from the Dursleys. After dinner they showered in their new bathrooms, and didn’t even manage to pull on their new pyjamas before they collapsed into their new beds.

The siblings had thought that they would have had trouble falling asleep in separate rooms, since they had not only shared a room (or a cupboard) their whole lives, but also a bed – and a small one at that. However, they were so exhausted from this nearly unbelievable day that they fell asleep the second that they laid down.

 

The next morning was for tea and contemplation. Heather found a brown leather journal that looked about thirty years old; certainly younger than most of the many books in the house that they had not yet explored, but still worn and dusty, with yellowed pages and a tear in the cover. Although it was empty, on the back cover was a large black paw print, with a signature underneath that read ‘ _Padfoot_ ’ in gold ink. With no idea who or what this could possibly refer to, the twins commandeered it as their official task book.

The first thing to do was learn about this new world they were in. They now had thirty-five days until they left for Hogwarts, and they needed to devote as much of that time as possible towards studying everything they could.

Harry and Heather made cinnamon oatmeal with slices of apple to go with their tea, and spent the next two hours discussing what they most needed to learn – even disagreeing once in awhile, which was something that rarely happened. They paged through _Hogwarts, A History_ , _Simple Household Charms_ , and several of the history books they had purchased, like _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Feats of the Twentieth Century_. The table of contents in each book gave them a good idea of what they most needed to know.

In bullet points, Heather laid out the things they would focus on before school:

 

• Wizarding History – starting with the biggest events of all time, then more details about the last 100 years

• Quidditch; what it is, when it was started, and how it’s played

• How to write with quills

• Everything about Hogwarts – clubs, houses, groups, and anything else the _Hogwarts, a History_ book can tell us

• The theory and purpose behind each magical subject we’ll take

• Everything we can about Voldemort; what he wanted to achieve, how he grew so powerful, and why people are still so afraid

 

There were some things they still needed to buy, like quills and ink and parchment, as witches and wizards seemed to use these almost exclusively, and they would need some to practise with beforehand as well as some to take to school with them. Also, getting some basic household supplies like dish soup and a broom and mop, extra towels and sheets (they could only find two of each the previous night), toiletries like soap and hairbrushes, and some more perishable food, like fruits and vegetables.

They decided they needed to visit the bank once again, not only to purchase tickets for the Hogwarts express (Gringotts was apparently one of the locations in Diagon Alley that sold them; Heather vaguely remembered seeing someone purchasing a pair whilst they were at the bank), but also to check more thoroughly through their High Family vault for anything that might be useful later, and any large items they wanted to bring back to their home. And, of course, they needed to speak to Kagamn again.

They wanted to do a bit more research as well, to decide exactly what they wanted and needed to do. Something told them that there was something just… _wrong_ in the Wizarding World. It wasn’t just the mystery of the Hogwarts headmaster who had chosen what future they would have and sent them to a horribly abusive household – it was also an inexplicable strangeness that lingered in the backs of their minds. Something subtle, but dire.

With all this decided, they created a rough schedule to follow until school started. There was so much to learn that they would have to follow it very carefully, and only exclude today, their birthday, the day they would visit Gringotts (they agreed on August the first, to give Kagamn enough time to start compiling a list, hopefully), and the last day of August – right before school started.

Their schedule looked like this:

_**6-7am** – Wake up, shower, dress, and eat_

_**7-8am** – Practice writing with quills (they look tricky) and using parchment (it looks difficult to write on)_

_**8-9am** – Learn the purpose and theories of every magical subject taught in first year, so we know why we’re learning it. When we know this, we’ll study the subjects themselves_

_**9am-12pm** – Learn about the Wizarding World; first the major events, and when these are learned study the latest century_

_**12pm-1pm** – Lunch_

_**1pm-3pm** – Research Voldemort; his rise to power, his goals, and his impact on the Wizarding World. We supposedly defeated him, but he’s still obviously a huge deal in the Wizarding World; they’re still scared of him. Why?_

_3pm-4pm – Read about Quidditch (it seems important)_

_**4pm-5:30pm** – Practise simple potions and charms – most children will probably be ahead of us in this, right?_

_**5:30pm-6pm** – Look into etiquette in the Wizarding World; is it generally the same as in the Muggle world?_

_**6pm-7pm** – Dinner_

_**7pm-8:30pm** – Free reading of common Wizarding fiction books, like that book by Beedle the Bard_

_**8:30pm-9pm** – Shower, dress for bed, and sleep_

 

Today, the plan was to unpack all of their clothing besides their school uniforms, take a more thorough look around their new home, and then go downstairs to purchase their quills, inks, and parchments – the only items they hadn’t yet bought for school – and perhaps some items for their office as well.

It was strange, standing in different rooms and hanging and folding so much clothing. Having their own clothes _and_ their own rooms was something Harry and Heather weren’t sure they would ever get used to.

After their things were put away, Harry and Heather locked eyes across the hall. Obviously they needed to get dressed for the day as well – but what to wear? They had already decided that how they dressed was very important, so this had to be a careful choice.

“Should we match?” Harry called, and Heather grinned at the idea and nodded.

“I know just the ones!” Heather said, and stepped back to her wardrobe. She grabbed a dress and showed her brother, who grinned.

“Perfect!” he said, and they both shut their doors and began to get ready.

Harry pulled on a pair of navy trousers, then a short-sleeved white shirt with a white argyle vest edged with navy at the neck and sleeves over it. He found a pair of plain socks that were also navy blue (though he supposed their colour didn’t really matter, as no one would see them) and then grabbed a pair of black loafers. With this done, he put his money pouch in his otherwise empty backpack and carried it to the bathroom next door with him. Harry had been relieved to find an old comb in one of the cabinets, just as Heather had found an old brush in hers, and as they hadn’t had a chance to buy these things yet, they had washed the ones they found. Harry actually managed to get his hair to lie relatively neatly on his head, and while he looked into the mirror, he realized a completely different person was looking back at him. A new, non-dirty, well-dressed and hair-brushed version of Harry Potter was reflected in the mirror’s surface, and Harry had never felt better about himself.

 

Heather pulled on the sleeveless a-line dress, making sure to smooth down the peter-pan style collar so it wouldn't wrinkle. the collar was white with navy blue trim, and the dress itself was baby blue, with four evenly spaced navy blue lines of thread along the body that ended in a little bow of the same colour. Heather also elected to pull on a pair of white tights (which was very hard, as she had never worn tights before). She was just pulling on a pair of baby blue ballet-style flats accented with a bow in the back when she heard her brother’s bathroom door closing. She set her backpack with her money pouch inside out in the hallway, and then stepped into her own bathroom and used the found hairbrush to brush her hair. When she had gotten all the knots out, Heather stepped back to look at herself and realized a completely different girl was looking back at her. A new, clean, well-dressed and well-groomed version of Heather Potter was reflected in the mirror’s surface, and Heather had never felt better about herself.

The twins met back out in the hall, and Heather picked up her backpack before they looked one another over.

“We look awesome,” Harry decided. Heather laughed.

“Yeah we do!” she said, and they shared a high-five.

With plans to explore their home a bit before they went downstairs to shop, the siblings were soon wandering through the house, looking at everything very closely. There were so many things to look at – ancient heirloom history tomes and records books carefully organised by date in the office; at least fifty ordinary books in total scattered through the living room shelves, and perhaps three times that in the library; even more candles and candelabras than they had spotted before, but also more electrical lights as well; delicate figurines and other small items that had obviously been in their family for ages scattered throughout the house – and while everything they saw delighted and amazed them, nothing surprised them as much as much as what they found in the downstairs hall.

When they bent to take a closer look at a photograph, the children were amazed to see that it was _moving_. It showed an older man and woman dancing together around a room, laughing and smiling at the camera. With shaking hands, Harry picked up the frame and turned it over, hoping for an explanation. He got one, but it wasn’t quite what either of them had expected. A handwritten annotation read _Euphemia and Fleamont Potter, 1969, on their 30_ _th_ _anniversary._

The twins gaped at each other. These people were their relatives, obviously, but how were they related to them? Harry was just beginning to wonder if these could be their paternal grandparents when Heather’s arm shot out and grabbed his tightly.

“What is it?” Harry asked, setting the photo back down and trying unsuccessfully to free his shirt from Heather’s grasp. She just shook her head, and when Harry turned to look at his sister, he saw she was crying.

It was hard to make Heather cry – to make either of them cry, really, though Harry did tend to be more prone to tears than his sister, actually – so his first instinct was to be angry at whatever was causing this, but instead he turned his attention to what she was looking at and followed her gaze to a photograph inside a golden frame.

The picture was of young couple – a man with messy black hair, round glasses, and grey eyes, and a woman with wavy red hair and green eyes. They were both smiling, laughing at the camera and then at one another, turning to face each other and steal a small kiss every now and then. Leaves from a nearby cherry tree swirled around them and speckled the grass at their feet. The woman’s belly was swollen with child – or, perhaps, children – and the man moved to caress it every now and then.

Harry and Heather didn’t need to read the inscription on the frame to know what this was, but they read it anyway.

_James and Lily Potter, May 1979_

For a long stretch of time, all the children could do was stare, and then they simply sank down to their knees until the picture was right in front of their faces.

They stayed that way for quite a while.

 

 

By the time the children tore themselves away from the photos, it was after lunchtime. They made themselves some sandwiches and decided they were brave enough to try the juice from a glass jug in their refrigerator. It was labelled ‘pumpkin juice’.

“You go first,” Harry said as they stared at each other across the table, juice glasses in hand.

“Fine,” Heather said nervously, and scrunched up her nose before bringing up her glass to take a decent sip.

Heather was immediately surprised, and felt her eyes began to widen before she schooled her face to neutral and set her glass back down. This was what Harry got for making her go first.

“Your turn,” she said, her face blank. Harry gaped indignantly.

“That’s not fair!” he cried, looking apprehensively into the thick orange liquid. Seeing no way out of it, he sighed and took a quick drink. Harry’s eyebrows rose and he gaped slightly.

“Hey, this is good!” He was shocked, and didn’t try to pretend otherwise. Heather’s poker face slipped away and she grinned.

“I know, right?” she said, taking another drink, “I never would have guessed it.”

“Me either!” Harry took a large gulp and grinned, showing off an orange moustache.

 

When lunch was finished, the twins deposited their dirty dishes in the sink along with those from that morning and the previous night, noting that they would have to wash them when they got back. They stepped out their front door into the hall, and Harry pocketed their house key after locking it behind them. They spared a moment to grin at each other over this before they headed downstairs.

They heard various sounds and indistinguishable voices from behind the doors they passed on the way down, and at the bottom they opted to cross through the back room of the shop – the way Serena had taken them yesterday. They passed through the warped glass door and then through the curtain opposite it, and were glad to see only a handful of customers inside. Serena was helping an elderly woman near the front of the shop, so the twins elected to browse by themselves until they had a chance to ask some questions.

Now that they weren’t distracted by their excitement, they noticed that the shop was much bigger on the inside that it seemed like it should be, and it didn’t just contain stationary supplies, but a manner of related things, most of which seemed to be geared towards a home-office environment. Quills and parchment, ink and small lap desks, bags and pencil holders, some books relating to the items sold, and drawing supplies from charcoal to paint were just some of the many things they could spot.

Harry had always liked to draw, and Heather had always been interested in calligraphy, but they were never exactly able to explore these interests at the Dursleys’ – their aunt and uncle weren’t about to give them so much as a pack of crayons, let alone an ink pen or some drawing pencils. However, Scribbulus had more than just quills, ink, and parchment – it had ordinary paper notebooks and journals, fountain pens, pencils, crayons, chalk, and colored pencils as well, along with so much more.

Just as the other three customers finished their purchase and left the shop (while Heather was examining a calligraphy lettering guide and Harry was excitedly reading the label of some colour-changing ink), Serena spotted the twins and crossed through the shop towards them.

“I hope she recognizes us,” Heather suddenly thought, grinning at the thought, and Harry had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Although they had ended up bathing with no soap and brushing their hair with possibly decade-old implements, they had still come a long way from the dirty, ratty-haired children that had arrived yesterday looking like they were dressed in potato sacks.

“Well,” Serena said as she reach them, brushing her hands off on her blouse, “You two sure turned up again fast.” She winked, and the children smiled. They really did like her.

“Anything I can help you with?” she continued.

“Yes, actually,” said Harry, putting down his ink bottle. “We need to pick up whatever supplies we might need at school, and we also need some quills and parchment to practice with – to get used to them and all.”

“Yes, quills can be a mite tricky,” Serena agreed, and the twins were relieved that it wasn’t just them who thought so.

“And maybe some extra things as well,” Heather added as she stared longingly at a quill that came with a set of different-sized tips. She tore her eyes away from it after a moment and made herself focus. “There are things we’ll need for home, I mean.”

The storekeeper laughed and beckoned them over to a set of wooden boxes grouped together on the floor, each one holding at least half a dozen rolls of differently sized parchment, with a label in front of each box.

“Hogwarts will provide you with parchment, quills, ink, and notebooks when you start your classes,” Serena said, leafing through the rolls of paper. “But I can understand that you’d want to practise first. Aha!”

She pulled out several rolls of parchment, and the twins now realised that they were wrapped together in bundles.

“One foot by two is standard for Hogwarts – not that it has to be exact,” she said, ruffling through the rolls she had and counting to herself. “Do you two just want enough to practise with, or would you like enough to start you off at school?”

“Enough for school,” Harry said quickly, and Heather nodded. Their arms brushed, and together they realised that they had to be as prepared as possible, and that meant getting at least enough school supplies to get started with, even if they would be the only children who did so. This was part of the ever-growing plan that had started in their subconscious while Kagamn told them the story of how their parents died.

“Okay, then I’d say a dozen roles for each of you,” Serena said, handing them each two thick, tied-up rolls of parchment that they could see held multiple sheets together. Before the children could thank her, Serena was swooping around to a table stacked with loose paper of different sizes, each arranged in a stack with twine holding them together.

“Standard size letter paper here,” Serena said, grabbing two of the stacks and handing those to the twins as well. “About fifty sheets in there – good for scrap paper or shorter assignments.”

Harry and Heather barely had time to smile gratefully at her before she was off again, and they realised that they had stumbled upon the woman’s true passion. This shop wasn’t just a store to her; it was obvious Serena took her duty of recommending papers and quills and inks _very_ seriously.

“So here we have some of your standard notebooks,” she said when the Potters caught up to her on the other side of the room. Displayed on a long row of shelves were all different sorts of notebooks, journals, and – to Harry’s excitement – sketchpads. The ones Serena was pointing to were about the size of your standard notebook. All had covers of black leather, but what differentiated them was the colour of the paper inside. One was yellow, one was pink, one was green – Harry and Heather had never seen such exciting yet unassuming notebooks, and were even more thrilled when Serena opened one up and flipped through it, showing that all of the pages were solid orange parchment with no lines or graphs – just blank paper.

“They’re great!” Heather burst out, and Harry laughed, as did Serena.

“I think so too,” she said, setting the notebook back down. “Now, how many do you think you’ll need?”

Harry and Heather turned to look at each other. They had no idea, actually. They weren’t sure how many subjects they would be taking at Hogwarts, and whether or not all of these would require note-taking. And shouldn’t they have some extra ones, just in case?

As if sensing their confusion, Serena offered, “Well, there are seven classes for first-years – not including flying lessons –” Harry and Heather felt their hearts jump at this, but had no more time to contemplate it at the moment and resolved to look into this more later “– So I’d say one for each class, and at least two or three backups as well.”

That sounded just right to the twins, who nodded and stepped forward to pick out the notebooks they wanted. They both chose the same ten colours: dark orange, rust, tan, brown, pink, white, blue, purple, red, and green.

At this point their arms were overflowing, and Serena quickly apologised and scooped up their things, setting them on the front counter and then beckoning them over to a large display of quills.

“There are several different sizes, shapes, and styles,” Serena said as the twins leaned excitedly over the quills, “There are also different quills for different uses, such as quills made with a thinner tip to write smaller and more exact. You’ll need several, if you want to make sure you have some to take to school. They do wear out eventually, and of course small things like these can get lost.” The twins nodded, and Serena reached over and began grabbing quills – seemingly at random. “You’ll also need two each for home, I think,” she said, bent almost double to reach a lower shelf, “And writing with any quill is hard at first, so even the best will take some getting used to – it’s a good idea you two had, to practice first.”

At last Serena straightened up, holding a total of ten quills – all in matching pairs, Harry and Heather noticed. She already knew them pretty well. Of course, they _were_ wearing one of their matching outfits today as well, which was probably a big clue.

Serena began introducing them to the quills immediately, holding out each one as she explained it.

“Here is your standard size. Not too thin or too thick, and a good length. This one is a bit shorter and thicker, for someone with a strong grip. And this one is the opposite – light and long, for someone with a delicate grip. Sometimes you don’t realise how hard or soft you’ll end up holding your quill until it’s either snapped in half or too cumbersome to move.”

The twins laughed and each took one of each of the pens. They were all very attractive and felt good in their hands, but they knew Serena was right in that they’d have to try them to know for sure.

“And lastly, these two are the standard quills generally used by adults. One writes in thinner lines, and the other in slightly thicker ones.” She held out two slightly longer and even more beautiful quills; one was thinner and the other thicker, but only by a small amount, though it was easy to see that the tips of the quills were different sizes. The thin-writing quill was made from a slightly fluffy red feather that felt like silk, and the tip looked like rose gold. The thick-writing quill was a sleek and black raven’s feather with a golden tip. Harry and Heather each grabbed one, and they glanced at each other for a moment, almost laughing. Even though they hadn’t tried a single quill yet, they already had a feeling about which quills they would each favour.

“These are good,” Harry finally said, and Heather added, “Yes. And thank you, by the way. You’re really good at this.”

Serena flushed a bit and murmured a quick “You’re very welcome,” then hurried to place the quills on the counter with their other things. The twins were glad they had finally gotten a thank-you in before the search continued.

Serena stepped over to a display next to the quills, and this one was primarily ink – in all different colours, sizes, and bottles.

“You’ll mostly be using black,” she said, “But I always used to take some blue and red with me as well – helpful during exam weeks.” She looked at the twins for confirmation, and they both nodded eagerly, because they trusted her judgement by now and because what she said made sense. “And for home…let’s see, you’ll want more of each of those colours, and maybe one or two others as well. You can get ink at school, of course, so no need to worry about stocking up for the whole year.”

“Good point,” agreed Heather, who had just been wondering how they were supposed to know how much they would need. The children quickly stepped forward and each grabbed three medium-sized bottles of black ink, then two bottles of blue, red, green, and brown.

“Great choice!” Serena said, stepping back over to the counter to add the ink bottles to their stash. Just then, Heather noticed something on the ink bottle display. There were several different quill stands, which seemed to hold two quills at a time and two bottles of ink.

“These would be great for our desk, wouldn’t they?” she said to her brother, nudging him. Harry followed her gaze and nodded, impressed.

“You’re right,” he said, “Let’s each grab one, then. With all those financial reports and bank statements we have to look over, I’m sure we’ll need to do a lot of writing.”

“And learn about finance and how to manage a bank account,” Heather added as they each picked up one of the stands – Heather’s had a redwood base with two indents for ink bottles and two gold-coloured quill holders, while Harry’s was light brown wood with the same ink bottle indents and the same style of quill holders as Heather’s, only his were silver. The children passed these along to Serena who looked both surprised and delighted.

“I think there are two more things we need – for school, I mean,” Harry said, speaking for both of them while their arms brushed each other’s, “First, I think just – just a pair of regular pencils,” he said, “Something familiar…just in case.”

Harry hadn’t meant to say that part aloud, and his sister gave him a funny look but didn’t object. Trust was gained and given in little bits at a time, after all.

“Of course!” Serena said, going to the far wall where – Harry noticed – there were sets of drawing supplies. “Here you are,” she said, handing them each a pack of two ordinary pencils. Though the children didn’t recognise the brand, they knew a pencil when they saw one, and even though they loved the beauty and elegance of the quills and ink, they found themselves relaxing as they came upon something familiar.

“And what was the other thing, dear?” Serena asked as they crossed back over to her nearly overflowing counter. The twins were suddenly very glad they were the only ones in the store.

“I don’t know if you’ll have something like this,” Heather said slowly, “But we were hoping to find something we could put in our bags to kind of keep things neat – make sure no bottles get broken and no paper gets crumpled. Do you have anything that would work?”

Serena’s eyes were positively glowing.

“Do I ever,” she breathed, and crossed to the far side of the store, near the window. Near a display of stationary kits (this pinged at Heather’s mind, and she grabbed Harry’s hand, pointing out the high status they were meant to have and the fact that they knew at least one person would expect regular letters from them (which was a lovely thing in and of itself) – and nothing said ‘high status’ like a fancy set of stationary; Harry acknowledged this idea as a good one before they refocused on the current matter at hand) were some bags here and there – little pencil pouches and the like. But when the children followed Serena’s gaze further up the wall, they were amazed to see exactly what they needed – a bookbag organizer. It looked almost like a bag itself, if someone removed its outsides and added about a dozen more pockets. They could see that it would easily fit into their bags, and it was made of leather with metal rods making up the frame inside to reinforce it. Serena brought two of them down, and the twins eagerly took them, examining every inch. There was a cup-like holder for rolled parchment, a folder for loose parchment, a strap to secure any notebooks and keep them from bouncing around, a pocket for quills and a shatter-proof pocket for ink, and an extra pocket that they supposed could be used for anything that might fit.

“This is perfect,” Heather said at the same time that Harry said, “I love it.”

There were so many things that they would have to have with them at Hogwarts on a daily basis – some delicate and oddly shaped as well – that this organiser was truly a lifesaver. They needed to look as put-together as possible, and this was definitely a good start – not just having the organizers, but bringing extra supplies as well.

“And you said you’d need things for your home as well?” Serena prompted after a moment, and the siblings reluctantly stopped ogling their organizers and allowed her to set them with their other items on the counter.

“Yes,” Harry said. “First, I think we’ll need several rubbish bins. At least…”

He paused, and he and Heather stood closer together so their hands brushed as they counted and traded thoughts. There wasn’t a single rubbish bin in their house, so they would need at least one for ever room. after adding up how many that would be, they threw a nervous glance around to see if there were even enough in the shop. They were relieved to discover that the wall across from them had a large portion of the very top shelf devoted to bins of all sizes and colours stacked inside one another.

“We’ll need, I think,” Harry continued, and while he spoke he looked at Heather to confirm he was calculating correctly, “Seven medium-sized bins, three small ones, and one large one.”

Heather nodded her agreement.

“Very good,” Serena said, going over to stand under the shelf where the bins sat. “Let me just bring them all down so you can pick out the ones you like. And I can always make a duplicate if you want more than one of a kind.”

The twins nodded, and before they had time to wonder how Serena would get these down when there was no ladder or stool in sight, she pulled a wand from her apron pocket and directed it at the bins.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa,_ ” she said, swishing and flicking her wand, and all the bins floated down one by one to settle around the children, who were gaping.

“That was amazing!” Heather managed after a stunned moment, and Serena chuckled.

“Yeah!” Harry said, “Could you show us how to do that?”

Heather nodded eagerly in agreement, and added, “Yes, please do!”

Serena was tucking her wand back inside her apron as they spoke, but at this question she paused.

“Oh dear me, no,” she said, her face a bit surprised. “You can’t – did no one tell you?”

“Did no one tell us what?” asked Harry, and Heather stepped closer to him so their arms were touched. They were surprised enough by her flat-out refusal to let it slip that they didn’t know something she’d assumed they did.

“My, my,” Serena said, shaking her head. “I’m surprised no one has said anything – underage witches and wizards aren’t allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts.”

The twins froze,

“W-what?” Harry managed.

“The Ministry of Magic forbids the use of magic in children under seventeen, excepting dire situations and accidental outbursts, of course.” Serena said almost apologetically. “Built into every wand made is the Trace, which is a charm that informs the ministry if magic has been used purposely by an underage witch or wizard.”

Harry and Heather didn’t move. This was very bad. This ruined at least 25% of their plans. Why hadn’t they heard this sooner? Was it in one of their books and they simply hadn’t seen it, skimming through them like they had been?

“Oh,” Heather finally managed to say. She forced a slight smile.

“That’s alright,” Harry said, following suit. Serena copied them with a much more genuine-looking grin and gestured to the rubbish bins.

They spent about fifteen minutes deciding which bin or bins they would get for every room. Finally, they decided on a small, circular solid white bin made of wood for their entryway, then chose a large solid bin coloured a dull gold for the kitchen, and then picked a medium brown square wood bin for the living room. The formal living room would need a nice one to match its décor, and the found a medium-sized solid rubbish bin coloured silver. For the office, they picked two medium bins with screen-like sides, rather than solid ones, identical save for the fact that one was white and one was black. They chose the same perforated style for their bedrooms, though these had larger cut-outs in diamond shapes rather than squares. Heather picked a small one in dusky orange, and Harry chose one in the same size, but olive green. For their bathrooms, they each chose yet another pair of medium bins with solid sides, made of aluminium with Heather’s painted white and Harry’s a brownish red. Lastly, for the library they chose one more medium sized bin, this one dark blue metal and also perforated, though with circles rather than tiny squares or diamonds.

The twins were relieved to hear that all of the rubbish bins were spelled to repel any liquids, food stains, or other sticky things that might be dumped in them – therefore they would never need washing. Of course, they still needed emptying, and Serena told them that there was a dumpster around the back of the building for the tenants to empty all their rubbish bins, and she suggested one more bin that could hold the contents of all eleven bins easily without getting too heavy.

“On the subject of containers that can hold things without getting too heavy,” Serena said, “I’d also recommend one or two of our laundry baskets.”

She pointed to a set of circular cloth bins framed with metal rods to keep them standing upright.

“I forgot to mention this last night, but on the wall behind the staircase, the one to the right of my flat, leads to our basement, which had a section to do one’s laundry and a storage area for each of our tenants – all separated by a metal fence and marked with room numbers.”

The twins nodded and voiced their thanks at some information they hadn’t considered asking about before.

“We do use Muggle washing machines though,” Serena continued, “Three sets each of a washer and dryer. Although, I suppose you know how to use these already.”

“Yes, we do,” Heather said, then hesitated for a moment before asking, “Why Muggle appliances though – like the machines and our refrigerator?”

Serena smiled, which made Heather feel better as she had been worrying that she was prying too much.

“Our electricity is powered by magic, but I’m still partial to having a few basic Muggle appliances, as I’m a half-blood myself.” When she saw the twins’ confused look, she added, “A half-blood is someone who has a mixture of magical and non-magical blood in them – my father, you see, is a wizard, and my mother is a Muggle.”

“Oh,” Harry said gratefully as Heather nodded, “Thank you for telling us.”

“No trouble at all,” Serena said, and the twins followed her over to the laundry baskets, which she again spelled down while they watched with almost as much awe as the first time she had done so.

Quickly Harry picked a laundry basket in the same brownish red as his bathroom rubbish bin and Heather grabbed one that was white like her own bathroom bin. Serena stacked the rubbish bins together in order from largest to smallest and then stacked the laundry bags as well, setting both stacks by the front counter. She paused for a moment, then waved her wand at the counter, causing it to grow by at least a meter. The twins nearly jumped.

“Alrighty,” Serena said, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “What next?”

The twins were glad to see that she wasn’t apprehensive to selling them a great amount of items, as the bookseller had been, and didn’t have the vaguely greedy air that Genevieve from the clothing store had had. She was simply excited and wanted to help them the best she could.

The twins looked at each other for a moment before Heather said, “I think we’ll need a three filing cabinets, so we can keep things organized,” She turned to her brother. “We can use one to organize our investments, stocks, and money reports, another for our things concerning our various properties and the items we own in the High Family vault, and then one for school, bank, and family records.”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry agreed, and Serena nodded. She gestured them to an area with various cabinets. She pointed out several in various colours that had three drawers each and were about a meter tall. Just the right size to fit under their desk, actually.

“Since most of the things you need to file come in threes, I think these would be a good choice,” Serena said. “They come with a set of twenty-six folders per drawer, and can easily be stacked.”

“That would actually be good for when we get older,” Harry observed, and Heather agreed. They picked one in white, one in black, and one in grey, and Serena used a spell to direct the cabinets to the front beside the rubbish and laundry bins.

Heather thought back to the stationary sets she had seen, and touched Harry’s arm to ask for his opinion on the matter. He agreed immediately, considering the point his sister had made before.

“I think we’d like two of those stationary sets,” Heather said, pointing to the shelf where she’d seen them, and the twins followed Serena over there.

“A very wise choice,” Serena nodded, “What designs do you like?”

There were many to choose from. Eventually, Heather settled on a light pink set, and Harry picked one in brown. Each had a set of letter paper and envelopes and a notepad.

“Excellent,” Serena said, picking them up and setting them on a clear part of a nearby table. “How would you like them personalized?”

The twins looked at each other blankly. They had no idea. Serena seemed to sense this, and said, “Typically, people choose to have their initials and family crest printed on the front of the box, just their initials on the binding that holds the papers and envelopes together, and a phrase such as ‘ _From the desk of…_ ’ on the top of their notepads.

The twins nodded, and Harry said, “That sounds good.”

They told Serena their initials and full names, which she branded onto the items with a tap of her wand, but when she asked for their house crest they froze for a moment before Harry remembered that the crest was on one of his rings. He showed her, and with two more taps she had imprinted the crest onto the front of their boxes.

When Serena had set down the two stationary kits at the front counter, Harry said, “I think some type of organizer for our desk would be good – it’s a big one, and we’ll have lots of things to put in it.”

“Yeah,” Heather agreed, “And if it could hold mail also, that would be great.”

Serena’s eyes positively sparkled.

“I know just the kind,” she said, and led them to an area devoted to such things.

There were several desk organizers to choose from, but Harry and Heather liked the pair of black and white ones that had two rectangular sections for pencils, pens, and other such objects, several little square holders for small things like paper clips and tape, which were already tucked away inside them. On the right sides were tall walled-off areas for magazines and the like with a large clip on the other side that could hold mail. There were a couple smaller walled-off sections, possibly for notepads or something of the kind and a few shelves on the bottom, and the twins thought they were perfect.

Serena smiled as they picked up one of each, intending to put them back-to-back in the middle of their desk. Serena placed these up front as well, then turned to them expectantly.

The twins looked at each other, and suddenly weren’t sure what else they might need. They were sure there were some other things they’d have to have.

Seeing this, Serena said, “May I offer some suggestions – since you’re nearly starting from scratch?”

“Yes, please!” said Heather, and Serena stepped back towards the desk organizers.

“A wall organiser might be helpful,” she said, pulling down a medium-brown coloured organizer. It was flat on the back, where it would sit on the wall, and had a circle of metal above it to hang it by. It included a little chalkboard with a few pieces of chalk sitting on a tiny tray below it that also held some pins for the small corkboard beside it. There were two slots for letters and several hooks on the bottom for keys.

“This should have all the things you need, and in a decent size,” she said, and the twins took it and looked it over. They realised quickly that it would work very well; a little chalkboard for reminders, a corkboard for notes, a slot for unread mail and a slot for mail they needed to send, and a place to hang their keys. It was just right.

They added this to their stack, and then Serena pointed out two planners, both slightly weathered and both leather-bound, one dark blue and one dark red.

“These are complete with all traditional wizard and Muggle holidays inside on their respective dates, and is good for two years,” she said, handing them each one that they flipped through. “I can also imprint the outside with your initials and the years as well. Planners are very helpful to have at Hogwarts, with all the classes.”

“Yeah, this is a good idea,” said Harry, who always had trouble remembering what day it was.

“I think so too,” Heather agreed.

“Lastly,” Serena said before the children could even set their planners down, “I think I’d recommend this wall calendar for the time you spend at home – if you have the space, that is; I can make it smaller.”

She unrolled a calendar that was about four feet tall and five feet wide. It was marked with the days of the week at the top, under the month which was currently May, and had enough space in the squares devoted to each date for a good amount of writing.

“To change the month, simple tap it with your wands and say the month name.” She demonstrated, taping the calendar and saying “July”. It instantly changed, and the twins were impressed. “And of course, that doesn’t count as a spell so your Traces won’t be activated.”

The twins pictured the blank wall to the right of the office door, across from the desk, and nodded their agreement. It was just the right size for the space.

Serena smiled and let out a puff of air, pushing some hair out of her face.

“Well, that’s about all I can think of for the necessities we sell,” she said, leading them back towards the counter. “Though if you think of anything else or if something isn’t working for you, feel free to come back.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry said as she calculated their total.

“Honestly,” Heather added sincerely, “We really appreciate this.”

Serena flushed a bit and said, “No problem at all.”

Something next to Harry caught his eye all of the sudden. Next to them were several types of photo albums and scrap books, but the one that caught his eye was a linen-bound album coloured a light amber colour, and beside this he also spotted some different sorts of instant cameras. He nudged his sister while Serena continued counting there huge amount of items, and Heather looked over.

“We’ll probably be making a lot of memories, don’t you think?” he said, and Heather nodded.

“Great idea!” she said, and Harry picked up the photo album he had liked while Heather examined the instant cameras, which were very similar to Muggle cameras like Polaroids. She decided on a medium-sized dark grey one and grabbed several packs of the appropriate film.

They set these things on the counter, feeling a bit guilty for adding even more things for Serena to have to calculate, and Heather said, “I think we’ll take these as well, please.”

Serena looked at what they had picked and nodded, beaming.

“A very good choice,” she said, “I should have thought of that as well.” She was just tallying up the rubbish bins and laundry baskets as she said, “Lots of things you’ll want to document there.”

After only a couple more minutes, Serena read out their total of around two hundred galleons, looking at them worriedly as she said it, but the children simply thank her and began digging in their nearly-bottomless bags, each contributing about a hundred gold coins.

“Good thing we have a lot left,” Harry observed, looking into his pouch as Serena picked out their change, “We’ve still got quite a bit of shopping to do.”

“How about I just take all this up to your flat, then?” Serena suggested, handing Heather three sickles and seventy-five knuts, “Won’t take more than a minute with a simple levitation spell.”

(The mention of magic once again made the children ache to try some type of spell, but they pushed this aside for now.)

“No – no, you really don’t have to,” Heather said, “You’ve already done so much for us –” but then she was cut off both by Serena’s abrupt yet kind interruption and the thought that it would take the two of them several dozen trips to get everything up all those stairs.

“It really is no trouble,” Serena said, “Now, you two get along and do the rest of your shopping, and your things will be up in your entry hallway when you get back.”

Now it was the twins turn to blush and once again stammer ‘thank you’s to the woman who had helped them acquire nearly everything they would need for both their home and their upcoming school year. Serena waved them away with a last “you’re welcome!” and the twins looked at each other and took a deep breath before putting their bags back on their backs and stepping through the front door and into Diagon Alley.

 

At first the children stared around, suddenly wondering if Diagon Alley would even have a grocery or something of the sort, but then Heather pointed out something that looked promising: _Bertram’s Basics_.

They approached the shop and peered inside. Despite the amount of customers inside (about a dozen, they guessed) they saw that this place obviously sold just what they needed.

The twins grinned excitedly and went inside, each grabbing a large canvas shopping bag from a rack just inside the store. Immediately, they went to work.

First, three towels were picked out each, one in every size: body towels, hand towels, and washcloths. Next they each grabbed two extra sets of sheets for their respective beds, and then found some household cleaning supplies and picked a spray bottle meant for glass and one meant for wood, a bottle of floor cleaner meant to be mixed with water, and a few sponges and scrub brushes. All the cleaning products in the store were both familiar and not; they recognized none of the brands, many of the labels moved and flashed different texts, and all had some sort of magical property, such as the water-repelent wood polish that literally caused water to bounce back off of the surface of the product, or the many brooms and mops that cleaned by themselves (though the children elected to start with manual ones for now). However, you could tell which things were which fairly easily, as most looked very similar to the products one would find in the Muggle world.

There was a section for personal hygiene products, and both children picked out a hairbrush a comb, a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush, shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, and a bottle of lotion (which they had never used before but thought would probably feel nice). As they approached the counter, they saw a box of wooden matches and a few sets of lightbulbs, and realized that they would need something to light the many candles around the house with, as well as the gas stove, and they had only seen a few matches in the kitchen the previous night. They grabbed a few boxes of matches and a couple standard lightbulbs, just in case.

The last things they picked up were a broom and dustpan set, and a mop and bucket set. The man behind the counter, Bertram, rang them up and looked apprehensively over the amount of things they were buying.

“Those bags are for sale as well, if you’d like something to carry all this in,” he offered, and the twins readily agreed. Their total this time was a modest forty galleons and sixteen sickles, and Heather pulled out her money and gave him the exact amount. They thanked the man, who thanked them back in turn, and left with their things, each with a bag on one shoulder and Harry carrying the broom and dustpan while Heather carried the mop and bucket.

Their last stop had to be some type of market, and they were happy to see a shop across the street and three doors down called _Food ‘N More_. Out front of the store were the vegetables and fruits and the like, which was just what they needed. Harry and Heather crossed the road and set their purchases down for the moment to the side of the stands, each grabbing another similar canvas bag, which they noted were also for sale.

“I’ll get vegetables, you get fruits?” Harry suggested, and Heather nodded.

They split up, and Heather gathered apples, grapes, pears, tomatoes, berries, plums, and a few more things the twins were partial to. Harry gathered lettuce, spinach, carrots, radishes, peas still in their pods, Brussels sprouts, lima beans, and a few more things here and there. Heather paid for her items first while Harry stepped inside for a moment to buy a gallon of milk, which he put in the bottom of his bag after he paid for it and the vegetables.

Meeting back outside, the twins picked up their other two bags and the broom and mop, and then grinned at each other. With a bag on each shoulder and a broom and mop for each of them to hold, they looked like they may drown inside all their purchases. Luckily, the twins were much stronger than they looked, and they started down the street and back home.

As of this moment, life was going very well indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2018 - All chapters are being edited and re-uploaded at the moment. A new chapter should be out soon!


	8. Chapter 7: The First Happy Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who is out there reading and leaving comments and kudos. It always makes my day! 
> 
> Coincidentally, I'm posting this on Harry and Heather's birthday, so it makes sense that this is The Birthday Chapter. I put a lot of thought into the presents here (and a lot of emotion, to be honest I teared up a couple times) and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! Up next is another series of multi-part chapters similar to the Diagon Alley ones. Hope you enjoy!

*

_Growing up, child_

_Is just a matter of time_

_For giving all you’ve got,_

_So won’t you dance under the sun_

*

**Chapter 7: The First Happy Birthday**

The few days between Harry and Heather’s arrival in Diagon Alley and their birthday seemed to go very fast. The second day they woke up in their own flat was the twenty-fifth of July, and though it had only been three days since the twins had received their Hogwarts letters, it somehow felt like three months.

Every day they followed their schedule to the letter, and every day they learned more and more about the world around them. They completed their _Hogwarts, A History_ book and then read it another couple of times, nearly memorising it. They found themselves getting lost in _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which they found fascinating. Every night they curled up in a large, cushy armchair in the library and read _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ until their eyelids drooped.

But they had been right in thinking that something was very wrong with the Wizarding World, and every day they came closer and closer to finding out what it actually was.

Practise with their new quills and parchment was going very well. Heather had found that she fared better with the thin, lighter quills and tips due to her soft grip, while Harry needed a sturdy quill, not because his grip was hard, but because he pressed down quite firmly. Rather than simply writing the alphabet over and over again or something of the sort, the children gave each other book reports and other such assignments to complete, which worked just as well for memory retention as it did for writing lessons.

While filing the missive Kagamn had sent them from Gringotts, it came to the children that, along with a book about finance, they needed to start keeping a record of how they spent their money. Luckily, together they managed to recall what they had spent so far at the stores they had visited, and Heather noted these things down on a piece of parchment until they could purchase a proper bank book as well. Harry pointed out the need for a general list of staples they would have to buy most often, to make shopping easier on them, and they decided that perhaps a book on home economics would be helpful as well – after all, they hadn’t gotten far enough to take this class in primary school, and they doubted Hogwarts had such a class.

Learning about Wizarding history was one of their favourite things to do, and they started by finding out which events of all time were considered the most important, and researched these at a basic level, leaving the more detailed reading for the most recent events.

The answer to the question ‘what in the world _are_ the subjects at Hogwarts, and what are they about?’ was found in, naturally, _Hogwarts, A_ _History_. Just as Serena had said, they did have seven subjects in their first year, minus flying lessons (which they had already learned a good amount about through their Quidditch book). They would take Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy, Herbology, Potions, and History of Magic. Only a bit more research was required to find out just what these subjects were about.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was the study of defensive magic, like shields and counter-curses. Transfiguration was the study and art of changing the form and appearance of an object, like liquefying a solid or altering the shape of an item. Charms was the study of spells and casting charms, and the spell Serena had used he previous day, _Wingardium Leviosa_ , was apparently a charm itself, one to cause objects to float and fly around (this was in _The Standard Book of Spells_ ). Astronomy was the study of the stars and movement of planets and their effects on magic and the planet, among other things. Herbology was the study of magical and mundane plants and fungi, including how to care for them or how to avoid them if necessary. Potions was the study and creation of magical brews and mixtures, and the theory of their application as either helpful or harmful. Lastly, History of Magic was the study of all magical history, from early days to modern times – something the twins hoped they would be able to get ahead in, as this was the only subject that involved absolutely no use of magic.

Though they had many books already, both in their home and the ones they had purchased, the twins sometimes found themselves needed to hop over to the bookshop to pick something up (“Merlin was _real_? Harry, we need a definitive biography on him, _now_.” “Broomsticks themselves aren’t really looked into in _Quidditch Through the Ages_ ; we’ll need an additional book for that.” “What are the most useful magical plants? _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ doesn’t really go into this; we need a field guide of some sort.” “Heather, what do you think makes a spell a Dark spell? _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ gives a brief idea of the theory, but we need something that might give us some examples with explanations.”), although many times they were able to find the books they needed in their living room, study, or library (“Here’s a great book on the Hogwarts founders – I think it has everything we need!” “Heather, I think I see that etiquette book you were looking for – it’s on the top shelf; give me a boost.” “That looks like a really decent book about the Salem Witch Trials.” “Here’s that book about potions equipment that _Magical Drafts and Potions_ mentioned, Harry.” “This looks like the perfect biography of Newt Scamander, see? It’s not that rubbish one by Rita Skeeter.”).

They were beginning to suspect that their love of books was genetic.

 

In the six days that came after moving in and getting their things settled and the day of their eleventh birthday, the children learned a decent amount of things. By the night of July thirtieth, they had at the least _looked_ into all of the subjects they had decided to study – all but one.

The twins were aware that they were avoiding the topic of Voldemort. Their eyes skimmed over entries concerning him in their modern magical history books. They unofficially changed their one to three PM schedule to add more time for studying general history. They ignored the command that had been transcribed from the notebook they had found onto a large piece of parchment that hung beside the huge wall calendar in their study. Still, their own words glared at them from the page, reminding them that this was something they needed to do.

Research Voldemort; his rise to power, his goals, and his impact on the Wizarding World. We supposedly defeated him, but he’s still obviously a huge deal in the Wizarding World; they’re still scared of him. Why?

It was around ten at night, two hours before they would officially be eleven, and Harry and Heather stood in the study and stared at these words. They knew very well that they were avoiding this, and it was pretty obvious why – and really, can you blame them for being reluctant to learn about the man who had murdered their parents and nearly killed them as well? Yet, this was probably the most important of all the tasks they needed to do.

“We’ll start on Friday,” Harry finally said, choosing that date because tomorrow and the day after were two of their designated days off; tomorrow being their birthday, and the first of August the day they would visit Gringotts again.

“Yeah,” Heather agreed softly.

It took a moment, but then the twins managed to tear their eyes off the scribbled name. Heather rubbed her eyes, and Harry yawned. They had intended to stay up until midnight to celebrate – after all, you weren’t eleven every day – but with one look at each other they knew this wouldn’t be possible.

The twins gave each other tired smiles and stepped forward to hug each other for a long moment. This was going to be the first birthday that was even halfway decent – besides their first birthday, they supposed, but neither of the twins remembered more than a few snippets of black and red hair, and the sensation of floating through the air.

“Happy early birthday, Harry,” Heather said.

“Harry early birthday, Heather,” Harry replied.

The twins left the study and crossed through the hall, into the living room, up the stairs, and into their rooms. They looked at each other one more time as they stood in their doorways, and then they both elected to shut their doors for the night.

Each of the Potter siblings crawled into their beds, feeling at least fifty things at once. Excitement, nervousness, worry, sadness – but what reigned over all of these feelings was one important thought that was nearly an emotion itself:

They had each other. They may not have had their parents to spend their birthday with, or loving relatives who would have cared enough to acknowledge it, or even friends to celebrate with, but they had each other.

That was more than enough to be grateful for.

 

 

**Heather**

At exactly eight o’clock, Heather’s alarm clock dinged. She immediately silenced it and nearly jumped out of her bed. Gone were all the negative emotions from last night – this was her and her brother’s birthday, and for the first time they were going to enjoy it.

She pulled on the outfit she had picked out the previous day. It was a lilac coloured dress decorated with white flowers and flowing just slightly at the bottom, as if it were loosely pleated. It was sleeveless, and a thin white belt circled the waist of the dress, matching the full circular white collar that ran around the neck. She elected to avoid stockings this time (it was nice to wear them for the first time and feel grown-up, but it was very hot outside and they got itchy), and so instead pulled on a pain of simple white sandals, all whilst being as quiet as she could be

Heather turned to her dresser and watched herself in the mirror that hung behind it as she brushed her hair (usually she kept her brush in her bathroom, but she was being sneaky today, and so had brought it into her room the previous night). She glanced over her outfit as well, grinning to herself and shaking her head. To Heather’s great surprise, she had learned that she was very partial to dresses and skirts, which she certainly hadn’t thought she’d be. Perhaps it was because she had never worn these usually standard items of clothing, or perhaps it was because she tended to be hot a great deal of the time.

Probably both, Heather decided as she carefully grabbed her backpack that held her money pouch inside, moving slowly so as to not rattle the coins around. She opened her door a crack and saw her brother’s bedroom and bathroom doors closed, just as they had been the previous night. Silently, she tiptoed into her bathroom and shut the door, then quickly used the toilet and washed her hands, face, and teeth. Again she peeked outside before stepping into the hall and, with her backpack clenched tightly as she tried her best to miss any squeaky boards, she crossed down the hall, past both of their bedrooms – making sure her bedroom door was closed, so Harry would think she was still in there and asleep – and down the spiral staircase.

Once Heather was outside of their flat and the door was shut, she relaxed a bit and pulled her bag on. After a moment of thought, she decided it was best to leave the key behind – they only had the one so far, and Harry may notice its absence – and she continued down the stairs and through the back door into the Scribbulus shop with a huge smile on her face.

For years she had had nothing to give to the most important person in her life, and now she was finally going to get to give her brother the birthday they had both always wanted.

 

 

**Harry**

At eight-oh-five, Harry’s alarm clock beeped, and he nearly slammed his hand onto it to shut it off – it was much louder than he had expected.

Quietly, Harry stood up and went to his wardrobe. He had had an outfit in mind – not one of the matching outfits he and his sister had, the ones that came already put together – he was going to make his own outfit.

Harry’s hands fluttered over the area in his wardrobe where he stored his casual clothes. He had never put an outfit together in his life – he had always worn whatever he had at the Dursleys’, and since the twins had moved in, they had elected to wear their matching things, to break them in as they were a bit stiff and vaguely formal. Harry knew, logically, that no one would expect an eleven-year-old boy to look perfectly put together, but he and his sister had an image to build and maintain.

Taking a deep breath, Harry went with his instincts and began picking out items. He pulled on a pair of blue jeans that were rolled up slightly at the bottom, added a brown leather belt, a button-up red-brown shirt made of cotton (it had long sleeves, but it was thin and therefore easy to role up), and his pair of brown boots before he stepped back to look into the mirror attached to his dresser.

Suddenly Harry felt a surge of…confidence? Yes, that must be what it was. What he was wearing matched itself, and it looked good – casual, but not shabby. It was comfortable, even the new leather boots, and Harry suddenly couldn’t stop grinning as he pack up his money bag in his backpack as quietly as he could.

Harry let his door drift open just a bit. Heather’s bedroom door was closed tight, as was her bathroom door. He listened for a moment and, when he heard nothing, he quietly stepped into the hall, closed his door behind him, and crept into the bathroom.

After using the toilet and washing his hands and face, Harry brushed his teeth and then his hair, noticing that it was getting tamer every day. Not necessarily less messy, exactly – his hair was actually looking more like his father’s did in the picture in their hall. It was simply less frizzy and no longer uneven and completely untangled. Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to explain this, because saying _yeah, my hair is really behaving now – see, before it was messy just like it is now, but now it is less messy sort of in a few ways, I know it’s hard to tell but_ –

Yeah. It just didn’t make sense out loud.

Harry finished his bathroom tasks, took a peak outside again, and determined it was safe to go. He shut the door behind him and carefully walked down the stairs, through the living room and hall and to the entryway, where he glanced at their wall organizer, from which hung one key – _we really do need to ask Serena for a second copy_ , Harry noted – before he elected to leave the key so as to not raise any suspicions, should Heather get up before he came home.

Stepping out of the flat, Harry nearly hopped down the four flights of stairs and out through the blue doorway.

In his whole life – short as it currently was – Harry had never been able to give a gift to the person he loved most in the world, and now it was finally has chance to make their birthday great. He couldn’t wait.

 

 

**Heather**

Serena was with a customer when Heather slipped in through the back door (she really needed to ask the woman if this was okay for them to do; just appear from the back of her shop and all). It was an old woman, the same one they had seen the first day they arrived, she noticed. Serena spotted her out of the corner of her eye and shot Heather an apologetic look, but Heather just gave her a thumbs-up signal. This was one trip she could handle alone.

Immediately she crossed to the arts area, and there was such a large selection that her first thought was ‘ _How will I even know what to buy?_ ’, while her second thought was ‘ _Couldn’t I just buy everything_?’

Heather shook off both thoughts. No, she wasn’t going to buy everything, and she knew her brother, so it would be easy to know what to buy. She just had to focus.

And focus she did. For around half an hour, Heather knelt on the wood floor and examined item after item – sketchbooks, doodling books, paintbrushes, charcoal, watercolours – there were so many things, and then different brands and styles and colours of these things, that it was easy to get overwhelmed. Heather took a deep breath to calm herself down. She just _needed_ to get Harry the perfect presents, and she would find them if it killed her. Serena, she knew, was still with the same customer, and still shooting her those same ‘I’m so sorry, I just can’t break away’ looks. But this was fine, because Serena – though she was obviously an expert in her field and someone Heather moderately trusted – couldn’t help her. Serena didn’t know Harry like Heather did – how could she? So Heather was on her own.

At last, she decided she would pick three things, and that narrowed her search a bit. Then she decided to pick what kinds of items they would be – paint sets, easels, charcoal?

Heather shook her head and tapped her chin thoughtfully. Then, suddenly, she knew what to get.

The first thing she grabbed was a black leather-bound classic sketchbook, or art pad, as it said on the label, that proclaimed it was useable with almost any artistic medium. It was shaped like an elongated postage stamp, and Heather had a feeling Harry would like that.

Next, Heather examined sets of drawing pencils. Harry had always wanted to try out the different lead types, to see what the differences were. Most of the sets only had four to six different pencils, but at last she found a set in a green metal case that came with sixteen pencils, plus a few types of erasers, a sharpener, and a couple of items Heather couldn't actually name. Luckily, there was an information booklet enclosed that she flipped through enough to see that it explained the different types of pencils and what they were used for. This was just right, and she set it off to the side atop the art pad.

Now she wanted to get Harry something with colour, but not more pencils and not any paint just yet…and that pretty much left one thing, which Heather pounced upon.

It was a set of fifty-six pastels in a thin white wooden box, each with their own indent in the lining of the box to hold them in place. All of them were intact, which surprised Heather, who was pretty sure pastels were very delicate, and combined with the large art pad and the set of pencils, Heather was certain that this part of her gift was perfect.

Just as she stood up with her items, Serena finished checking the old woman out, and Heather hurried up to pay.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you before – that Doris Crockford can go on forever, I tell you,” Serena looked frazzled as she shook her head in disbelief, and Heather laughed.

“It’s fine,” she said, “I needed to do it myself anyway.”

Serena gave her a gentle smile as she read out her total of fifteen galleons, ten sickles, and two knuts.

“Would you like me to wrap these for you?” Serena offered before Heather could think to ask, and she jumped at the offer.

“Yes, please!” she said, but as the shopkeeper pulled out a roll of brown paper and some tape and ribbon, she frowned. “Wait, how did you –”

“Your birthdays are common enough knowledge,” Serena interrupted gently, “And we keep track of our tenants’ special events as well.”

She tied a bow in blue ribbon around the separately wrapped items. Heather didn’t know what to say. She had started to think that, perhaps, they weren’t all that well known, if Serena hadn’t reacted to their presence by now. No, she had known all along. She was obviously just being considerate by not making a big deal out of who they were.

“Which reminds me,” Serena continued, reaching back into a set of small drawers that hung from the wall behind the desk, “Here you are!”

She handed Heather a parchment envelope tinted rose pink. It had her name on the front in light blue in a simple, slightly curling handwriting – ‘Heather C. Potter’ – and Heather opened it with shaky hands, stunned into silence.

Dear Heather,

_Though you’ve only just moved in, I must say I’m very glad to have you and your brother in my building. It is my privilege to host the two of you, and not at all because of the fame you have in our world, but because you are kind and intelligent children. I’ve learned this from only a few days spent with you, and I look forward to what I’ll continue to learn in the coming weeks, months, and years._

_You’re eleven now, which is a big deal in the Wizarding World, but I won’t bore you with trite, sage-like wisdom. My only advice is this: don’t waste your potential, and don’t loose sight of what’s important. As long as you remember what matters the most to you, and as long as you keep in mind the effect you wish to have on the world, you will do great things._

_Warmest regards and wishes for a happy year,_

_**Serena S. Scribbulus** _

Heather was speechless. She only realised she was crying when Serena silently passed her a tissue. The young girl cleared her throat and wiped her eyes as she held in her hands the first birthday card she had ever received. Heather couldn’t put into words how this made her feel – to receive something so heartfelt and beautiful from a person who barely knew her, yet still somehow cared about her…it was too much to process.

Heather did something she never would have though she’d do. She stepped around the counter and hugged Serena tightly, her face resting against the woman’s chest for just a fraction of a moment until Serena wrapped her arms around Heather as well.

Serena absolutely had to go on their list of trusted individuals.

 

Eventually, Heather pulled herself together and thanked Serena several times over, while the woman continued to gently protest that it was _“still no trouble, really”_. She helped Heather tuck her packages into her backpack, where she put her card also (Heather knew immediately she would keep this card for the rest of her life), and then Heather pulled out her pocket watch to check the time (and boy had it been hard learning to read those; the twins found a little booklet on such watches that told what every hand did and why, and finally they were able to find the hour and minute hands among all the others, though they both still had some trouble with the rest of them).

“Oh, shoot!” Heather said, quickly shrugging her bag back on when she realised that it was after ten.

“I’m sorry, I have to go!” she said to Serena, who smiled at her once again and wished her luck.

Just as the door chimed to proclaim another customer, Heather ducked into the back, through the warped glass door, and then out through the bright blue door.

It was bright out, and Heather winced a bit. She stared around for a moment, trying to remember where the shop she wanted was, before she finally spotted the right one and dashed down the street.

She really hoped Harry wasn’t awake yet.

 

**Harry**

When Harry stepped out of the bright blue door and onto the street, it was only about eight-thirty, and so the streets were nearly empty. Harry didn’t even have to think as he set off in the direction of the store that was his first target of the day – _The Magical Menagerie_.

There were only two other people shopping inside, but it was hard to see them at all through all the cages, boxes, bins, tanks, and bags cluttered around, not to mention the animals themselves. While many were tucked away in their spots, many more roamed free. Harry saw a bejewelled turtle, something that looked like a dog, a giant crab who had his pincers tied up tightly, and many birds, cats, and small mammals.

Now that Harry was here, he had no idea what to do. He knew that he wanted to get his sister a pet, but which one? Some things, like the turtle and giant crab, he could rule out as both too large and impractical. Harry had his mouth halfway open to call out to the shopkeeper before he shut it abruptly. No, a stranger couldn’t help him find the right animal. He knew his sister best, and Harry was sure he would know the right animal when he saw it.

It took almost forty-five minutes to see it. During that time, Harry played with birds and mice, rabbits and snakes, ferrets and lizards, but none of the animals stood out to him.

That was, until the store owner began to bring out several new crates to replace the animals that the previous customers had bought – Harry hadn’t even noticed them leaving. As the man set down the first crate and disappeared into the back, Harry stood and approached the wicker box. It had a window on the front and was secured by a leather-wrapped metal clasp. The crate was big enough for perhaps a small-ish dog, or maybe –

Just then, a loud _MREW_! came from inside the box, and Harry jumped back. Apparently, it was big enough to hold a cat.

A nose and eyes appeared in the window of the crate, and the cat let out a friendlier _meow_.

Harry had a good feeling about this. He went to open the crate, but then paused and looked up at the man at the front desk. The man obviously knew what Harry was thinking, and gestured for him to go ahead.

“Only rule is, if she gets away and goes runnin’, you’ve gotta catch her,” he said.

“Okay,” Harry agreed, and pulled the door open.

He had half expected the cat to immediately dart out, but instead it stepped forward and out on the empty shelf next to its cage. It – or she, Harry supposed, assuming the storekeeper was right – shook herself and then turned to him expectantly, sitting down and licking one of her paws leisurely. She was a smallish cat with long hair that was a mixture of grey and very light blonde. She had small, pointy ears and intelligent green eyes, and Harry almost felt a bit intimidated.

Slowly, he reached his hand out for the cat to sniff. Did you only do that with dogs? He didn’t know. However, it seemed to work as she twitched her nose thoughtfully as she took in his scent, then pulled her head back to rub against his hand. Harry raised his eyebrows – this was probably a good sign. He reached over to pet her, and she leaned into him as he stroked her back and head. Her fur was extremely fluffy and when he tentatively began to scratch behind her ears, she began to purr. Then, all of the sudden, she launched herself at him, hooking her nails into his shirt but missing his skin, and automatically Harry went to support her.

As the cat purred in his arms with her nails dug into his clothes, he shared a look with the storekeeper, whose face was red with laughter he managed to suppress until he locked eyes with Harry.

His loud guffaws didn’t seem to disturb the cat, and the man gestured Harry over to the counter, still laughing. He went, still holding on to the cat he was nearly wearing.

“That’s Scholastica,” the man said, gesturing to the cat with a quill he held in his hand, “And that means she likes you.” The cat purred louder. “She don’t like many people.”

 _If she likes me, she’ll love Heather,_ Harry decided.

“I’ll take her,” he said, and Scholastica butted her head under his chin.

 

Of course, it wasn’t _that_ simple. Her wicker cage had to be bought also, for transport reasons, and she would need food, and a litter box, and at least a few toys and treats.

Harry and Scholastica picked out everything together. While still in his arms, she sniffed every type of cat food they had before butting her head against one of them in approval. She elected to get down to examine the litter boxes, and scratched her paw against a pale green one before continuing over to the toys, where she carefully pulled out a toy snake, a rattling ball, and a stick that had a long string with a feather attached to it.

Harry brought the items up to the front and the storekeeper tallied up his total while Scholastica climbed up his leg with her claws, still somehow managing not to hit any flesh. Once all of their things were paid for and the storekeeper had helpfully packed everything but the cage into a large bag, Harry coaxed a mewling Scholastica back inside her case, promising her that it would only be for a little while and getting a low growl in return.

“Thank you,” Harry said as he pulled his backpack back on and shouldered the bag on one side and held the handle of Scholastica’s cage with the other.

“You’re welcome,” the man said with a grin, chuckling to himself. Harry shook his head and left the shop, stopping for a moment to remember which way he needed to go before he figured it out and turned left.

His next stop was Scribbulus, and as he spied a clock outside a nearby shop he saw it was ten o’clock. He could only hope Heather was still asleep.

 

**Heather**

Once her eyes adjusted to the sun, Heather glanced around for the shop sign she was looking for. Yes, there it was – _the Magical Menagerie_.

All she knew going in was _animal_ , and boy did they have them. She could have spent hours looking at all of them, but Heather knew she had wasted enough time in Scribbulus already. The clock was counting down. She breathed deeply again and calmed herself. Walking up and down the aisles – and stepping over animals as she went – Heather tried to think about the kind of animal her brother would like. No, no – the specific type of animal wouldn’t matter to him; she had to find one with its own personality…

“Merlin’s beard!” screamed someone across the shop, and Heather looked up to see that the man behind the store counter had jumped up, running across the room to a glass case. Heather squinted and was just able to see a rat climbing out onto the shelf above it. Looking into the cage, it was easy to see what had happened: the rat had actually built himself a ladder. Rocks, toys, treats, food – all were stacked together in one corner, making a pile high enough for the rat to use to climb out.

Heather immediately knew that he was the one.

The storekeeper was trying and failing to catch the rat, who was darting back and forth through the items on the shelf. Heather hurried forward and tapped the man on the back.

“Oh, for the love – can’t you see I’m busy here?!” he shouted, his hands darting back and forth while the rat dodged them easily.

Heather frowned. “No, you don’t understand – I want to buy that rat.”

The man froze, and the rat did as well. He turned towards her.

“You want this rat?” he confirmed, the disbelief evident in his voice as he pointed at the rat in question, who was hiding behind a large can of some type of pet food.

“Yeah,” Heather said firmly. “He’s just right. How much?”

The man seemed to almost deflate.

“Well bless you for taking him off my hands,” he said, stretching his neck a bit and levelling one last glare at the rat before retreating back to the counter. “If you can catch him, you can have him _and_ all the stuff he’ll need for seven galleons.”

Heather raised her eyebrows. That seemed like a good deal. The man really _did_ hate this rat.

“His name’s Augustine, by the way,” the man called out as he spread open a newspaper. “Don’t know if he knows that himself, though.”

Heather furrowed her brow and turned back around to face the rat, who was peeking out from behind his can. She noticed his former cage proclaimed he was a pure-bred fancy rat, though why the pedigree of a rat mattered at all was lost to her.

“Hey, Augustine,” Heather said softly, holding her palm out flat next to him on the shelf. The rat twitched slightly but didn’t run. “Listen, I want to get you out of here,” she continued, leaning forward as if she was telling him a secret. “It’s me and my brother’s birthday, and I wanted to get him a pet, and I know you’re just right. You’ll love him, I promise.”

The rat looked from her hand to her face and back again several times before he tentatively placed one tiny paw on her palm. When Heather didn’t make any sudden movements, he added another paw, and then another, and then the last one, and Heather grinned as she slowly lifted him up. Augustine was bigger than she would have expected – small enough to scrunch himself up enough to fit on her hand, but she had a feeling that if he was totally stretched out, he would be quite large indeed. Of course, Heather had never actually seen a rat in person, only mice, so maybe that was why he seemed so large to her.

Heather carefully brought him up to eye level, using her other hand to steady herself. Augustine was white along the bottom and light grey along the top, with shiny black eyes and a twitching pink nose and tail.

Heather had a feeling he could understand her – at least a little bit. So she asked, “Do you want to come home with me?”

Augustine darted his eyes around the shop, and back to her, and to the shop again. His ears were twitching like mad, but finally he settled back on her, stuck out his tongue, and licked her hand. Heather was startled into a laugh, which made Augustine shriek shrilly in response. She took this as a yes.

Rather than glass, she elected to pick out a medium-sized white cage that was made of metal bars coated with strong plastic, like a bird or hamster cage. It looked more welcoming, and Augustine seemed to like it. Heather would solve the problem of his aptitude for escaping later.

She picked up some bedding, a few packages of food, and a few toys – a little ball the rat could push with his nose, a crinkly tube to crawl through, and a large running wheel.

Satisfied that they had enough for now, she tucked Augustine into his cage with the promise that it wouldn’t be for long (though he did seem to like this better; he stuck his nose through the bars and sniffed the air with interest. Heather wondered if perhaps the reason he had left the previous cage was because he was under-stimulated). She paid the man seven galleons and thank him gratefully, while he responded by thanking her even more gratefully.

Augustine squealed as they stepped from the darkness of the menagerie into the bright street, but once his eyes got used to the light, he darted back and forth in his cage, trying to look at everything and everyone. Heather laughed; she could relate to that.

It really was getting hotter outside as the day progressed, now just around half past noon, and Heather found her eyes drawn to _Florien Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour_. She was about to shrug it off as being too much to do and better saved for a later date when she saw a sign outside the shop:

_Summer special – long-lasting ice cream!_

_Stays cold for up to two hours, so it will melt in your mouth and not on your hands!_

Suddenly, Heather had a great idea.

 

**Harry**

It was getting to be around lunch time, and Scribbulus had several customers inside it besides Harry. Serena, he could see, was so busy she didn’t even notice him coming – but that was fine, because Harry knew just what he wanted – it was just a matter of picking everything out.

Immediately, Harry headed towards the quill stand, setting down Scholastica and her various items next to him as he settled near a side that offered calligraphy materials.

There were so many things to choose from, and even though Harry had a basic idea of what he needed, there was still the matter of which item to pick. His first idea was some type of calligraphy instruction book, and there were at least a dozen – some extremely basic, and some extremely advanced. It took about ten minute of flipping through almost every book before he found one he liked – _Mastering Copperplate Calligraphy_ by Eleanor Winters. It has lessons ranging from basic to advanced at a decent pace, and was long enough to be of use for some time.

Next he went in search of a set of quills – yes, they both already had several quills, but Harry wanted to get his sister a proper calligraphy set, and he managed to find three different types. All of them came with several types of quills, several different tips for the quills, and several ink pots. The first only had two of each, and the second had _twelve_ of each ( _maybe someday,_ Harry thought as he placed this one back on the shelf), but the last was perfect. It had three types of quills – one made of swirling glass, one of finely decorated porcelain, and one made of a plain but beautiful feather, all with the same head so that the various quill bits would fit. There were ten different quill tips, ranging from tiny to large – which made good sense, because, as Harry had found out from skimming the calligraphy books, you often needed more than one type of quill for the fancier lettering.

Last, Harry looked for a notebook of some kind to write it all in. Of course, there were the typical artistic journals – most not very different from an ordinary sketchpad – but he was looking for something else. It took awhile, but he found it – tucked away behind the other notepads was a hard cover spiral notebook made of thick brown paper, specifically designed for practising calligraphy. The cover and spiral core were designed more like a school binder, so that the journal always laid flat, and any piece of paper could be easily removed with no tearing. It was perfect.

With a groan – he had been kneeling beside the display for too long – Harry pulled himself to his feet, taking his three items with him and scooping up Scholastica and her things as well, and headed to the front desk. He was just in time as another customer was just stepping away with their items.

Serena practically beamed at him as she counted out his price of eighteen galleons, ten sickles, and fifty knuts, cooing at Scholastica all the while as Harry had set her up on the counter to count out his money.

“Would you like these wrapped, then?” Serena asked as he handed over his money.

Harry was about to say yes when what she said caught up to him.

“Wh-what?” he said, confused.

“Today is pretty widely known as your birthday,” Serena said kindly. “We make a habit of keeping tabs on the birthdays, anniversaries, and other special events of our tenants’.”

“Oh.” Harry said quietly. Serena tied a green ribbon around the three items, but Harry barely noticed. His hopes that, perhaps, they weren’t _that_ well known, and that they could relax just a bit, were dashed. Not only had Kagamn and Ollivander known, but Serena had as well – the whole time, it seemed. She was just being polite.

Serena wordlessly helped Harry tucked the newly-wrapped items into his backpack to leave more room for him to carry Scholastica and her items.

“Also, since you’re here, I’ve got something for you,” the woman said as she finished, ducking around the counted and to a set of drawers on the wall. Harry shook himself a bit and reached across the desk to accept a light teal coloured parchment envelope. Written on the front in light green was ‘Harry J. Potter’ – and Harry took a deep breath, surprised but trying to steady himself, before he opened it with numb fingers.

Dear Harry,

It’s only been a few days since you moved in, and yet I find myself growing fonder of you and your sister every day. I can only imagine that feeling will grow more and more in the days, weeks, months, and years to come.

It’s still amazing to me that you chose to live here when I’m sure you have several more properties to choose from and all I’ve got is a normal flat, but I’m endlessly glad that you did choose this place as your new home.

Today you’re eleven, and that is a large milestone in the Wizarding World, for reasons I’m sure you can decipher. Usually this would be the part of the letter when the so-called wise older person gives the naïve child – or children – some earth-shattering advice, but you and your sister are not naïve, and I feel like even ‘children’ can be considered a loose term when applied to the two of you.

The only advice I can give you is to keep in mind what matters most to you, to remember what your goals in life are and strive towards them. Don’t ever waste or overlook your own potential, and if you can do these things, you will live a great life indeed.

Warmest regards and wishes for a happy year,

**Serena S. Scribbulus**

For a moment, Harry just stood there. He felt wetness on his cheeks and wiped them away with his sleeve. Serena handed him a tissue, and he still couldn’t get the words out to thank her as he accepted it. Harry swallowed hard and tightly but gently held his first-ever birthday card. It was strange how much such a simple thing could make him feel, but it was coming from a person who barely know him, and yet already cared…he almost couldn’t process it.

Then Harry did something impulsive that shocked him almost more than receiving the letter itself. He walked around the counter and hugged Serena, who inhaled sharply before quickly hugging him back.

Obviously, Serena had to go on their list of trusted people.

 

After a moment, Harry pulled himself together enough to thank Serena several times over, while the woman steadfastly protested that it was _“still no trouble, really.”_ Harry tucked his card into his bag along with Heather’s presents (he knew immediately he would keep this card for the rest of his life), and then Harry pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. It took him a second to find the hour and minute hands, but when he did he realised it was getting close to one in the afternoon. He nearly swore – surely Heather would be awake by now; why had he lost track of the time? – and then bade Serena another hasty farewell before gathering up the cat and her items and rushing out the back door of the shop and up the staircase.

 

 

**Heather**

With a brilliant idea in her mind, Heather raced back to their flat, going through the tenant door and up the steps quickly. At their floor she slowed down, opening the unlocked door silently, and listened. When she heard nothing, Heather swiftly and silently darted inside, tip-toed up the spiral staircase, and peeked down the hall. Both of Harry’s doors were still shut; was there a possibility he was still asleep? Maybe, or maybe not, but either way he wasn’t around to see anything.

Heather darted into her room, setting down Augustine and his things before picking Harry’s parcels out of her backpack as well. She grabbed a few coins, deciding to leave her bag and money pouch behind, and tucked Augustine's new toys carefully inside his cage with him.

“Okay,” Heather said to the rat, a bit out of breath, “I’ve got to go and grab just one more thing, so I’ve put your things in there with you so you don’t get bored.”

Augustine looked at her, a sceptical expression somehow showing on his face.

“I promise,” said Heather, “Only a few minutes. And then you can meet Harry.”

Augustine looked her over for a moment, but then shrieked, seemingly in agreement, and climbed into his play tunnel.

“Alright,” Heather said to herself, peeking out her door one last time before deeming it safe and silently darting back through the flat, out the front door, down the four flights of stairs, and out through the shop. “One last thing.”

 

 _Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour_ had at least one hundred different flavours, not to mention the combinations thereof, and the various toppings. Luckily, Heather just about knew exactly what she wanted. It only took her a few minutes to find it – a large, long-lasting peanut butter fudge ice cream cone. Neither peanut butter nor fudge nor even ice cream were things they had had often with the Dursleys – perhaps only once or twice, when they had been able to sneak them – but Heather remembered that Harry loved all three.

With her cone in hand, Heather told Mr. Fortescue to keep the change – she had nowhere to put it, after all – and sped back to Scribbulus, through the shop again (this time waving at a grinning Serena, who was helping several small children choose quills) and up the stairs.

As her hand turned on the knob and she quietly stepped in, Heather decided that she had done everything just right.

 

**Harry**

Once again, Harry did the ritual of quietly peeking, tip-toeing, and nearly holding his breath as he walked into their flat, crept up the stairs and past his sister’s still-closed doors and into his own room.

Taking a slightly louder breath of relief at not being caught yet – was Heather really still asleep? They had been awake late the previous night, though not _that_ late – Harry moved to take his bag off when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a sign on the street below. It was for _Florean Fortescue’s_ _Ice Cream Parlour_ , a place the twins had not yet visited but certainly wanted to.

And at that moment, an idea hit him.

Harry pulled the three wrapped parcels out of his bag and set them on his dresser, then grabbed a few coins from his pouch and tucked them into his pocket. He set down Scholastica and her things, and carefully opened the latch on her cage.

“Listen, I’ve got to go do one more thing,” he said to her as he pulled out her toys as well. “It’ll only take a few minutes, and then we can finally introduce you to Heather. Can you just stay really quiet in here while I go?”

Harry had no idea how much Scholastica understood him, but his instincts told him it was a great deal more than he thought. Scholastica looked him up and down before actually nodding her head and then pouncing on her toy ball.

Harry sighed gratefully and quietly crept out of his room, past his sister’s two closed doors – luck must be on his side today, if he hadn’t been spotted yet – and through the rest of the flat. Once outside their door, he nearly sprinted down the four flights of stairs and out through the tenant door.

 

The selection that the ice cream shop had was daunting, but luckily Harry already knew what he was there for. He was also delighted to discover that he could buy long-lasting ice cream that was guaranteed not to start melting for at least two hours. The memory of one of Dudley’s birthdays filled his head as he looked over the many, many ice cream combinations. It had been one of the rare ones where Dudley wanted to celebrate at home, and there had been an ice cream bar for the children. When Dudley hadn’t wanted to finish his sundae – because it didn’t have enough ice cream on it – Harry and Heather had been allowed to share it.

It only took Harry a minute in the shop before he was ordering a long-lasting ice cream sundae with extra fudge and cherries. Now carrying the ice cream bowl – which he had elected to buy as well, when Mr. Fortescue offered – he told the man to keep the change (his hands were too full to put it in his pockets anyway) and Harry darted past customers and back outside, heading through the Scribbulus tenant door again. He hopped up the stairs with a grin on his face.

As Harry pushed open the door and walked inside, he decided that he had done everything just right.

 

 

**Harry and Heather**

It just so happened that Heather had entered their flat only moments before her brother, so just as Harry stepped through the front door, his sister was walking into the kitchen, and as Harry entered the front hall, Heather was setting his ice cream cone down in a cup to keep it upright.

That meant that Harry walked in to the kitchen at the same moment that Heather placed the peanut-butter fudge cone on the table.

Both of the children froze, staring at each other for a long moment as their brains tried to work all of this out. They both looked from the ice creams to each other and back again before breaking out in huge smiles.

Harry quickly put Heather’s bowl on the table beside his own as they crossed the kitchen and met in a huge hug.

“Happy birthday!” they said to each other nearly simultaneously, and then laughed.

It took them both awhile to let go of each other now, because they couldn’t help getting choked up yet again. At last, the twins pulled apart with watery laughs, and they looked at one another before grinning and sitting down at the table. Heather pushed the cone in its cup to Harry, and he pushed her ice cream sundae across to her.

“It’s peanut-butter fudge,” Heather said, indicating her brother’s treat.

“Yours is a sundae with extra fudge and cherries,” Harry offered.

“It’s too bad we don’t have any candles to blow out though…” Heather frowned, thinking of the times they had witnessed their cousin, aunt, and uncle do so during their birthdays.

“But we do!” Harry suddenly cried, jumping up. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this before. He grabbed one of their boxes of matches from where it was tucked away on the wall with their good china and grabbed the candelabra that was in the middle of the table. It had four candles total – perfect.

“That’s brilliant, Harry!” Heather exclaimed, and jumped up to help her brother light them. When each one was flickering a warm orange, the twins locked eyes before closing them tight and blowing the flames out.

Though they hadn’t been planning this, and so didn’t have a particular wish on their minds yet, they both thought of the same thing, the first thing that popped into their minds.

They had already started assembling their group of confidants, though so far only Kagamn and (though she didn’t yet know it) Serena were on their list. Soon they would make more friends, and more and more people would enter their lives. Some wouldn’t be good, of course, but they were sure that many would be. And this thought arose, becoming a wish inandof itself:

They were building a family.

 

“I can’t believe we actually went to the same three places,” Heather chuckled around ten minutes later as they were both getting close to finishing off their ice creams.

“I honestly don’t see how we missed each other,” Harry agreed, biting a piece of his ice cream cone off. “It must be pretty statistically improbable.”

Both of the children laughed now. It wasn’t just the odds of all this happening while they both darted just out of each other’s reach that made it strange – it was the fact that they were usually so intoned to one another’s presence. Yet somehow, they hadn’t sensed each other.

Perhaps it was because they hadn’t wanted to find each other, just this once.

Harry crunched up the last bit of his cone just as Heather scraped the last chunk of fudge from her bowl, and they both stood up, eager to give one another their gifts. Though they had both admitted which shops they had gone to, they hadn’t told each other what they had purchased.

The twins placed their dishes in the sink to clean later, then washed off their faces and hands before Harry grabbed his sister’s hand and raced towards the living room.

“Let’s go to my room first, alright?” he asked, awkwardly pulled a laughing Heather behind him up the spiral staircase. It had occurred to him that he had promised Scholastica he wouldn’t be gone long, and he was certain she would be pretty upset with him by now.

“Alright, I’ll just bring all my stuff in there, okay?” Heather offered as they stepped into the upstairs hallway, thinking that Augustine was just as portable as the other presents, and Harry nodded quickly, darting over to his room. Heather laughed again while he shot inside, not closing his door behind him this time, but she elected not to cheat, and instead of peeking through the doorway she went to her room, gathered everything up in her arms, and then made her way across the hall.

The second that Heather cleared the doorway, a grey-ish blur shot across the room, leapt into the air, and landed in her arms, causing her to shriek and drop the three wrapped packages and the bag that contained Augustine's supplies – though luckily she managed to keep ahold of the rat’s cage with a couple of her fingers as she was forced to grab at the furry thing on top of her.

Heather looked incredulously at her brother over a mound of grey-blonde fur – she didn’t even know what animal she was holding, supposing it was an animal – and she saw that Harry’s face was very red, his lips pressed tightly together. When their eyes met, however, he lost his composure and doubled over laughing. Heather glared at him half-heartedly, turning her attention back to the now-vibrating creature that was attached to her dress. She turned her head this way and that, but couldn’t get a decent angle to actually see anything.

Meanwhile, Harry was still laughing, though calming down a bit now.

“Trade you?” offered Heather, nodding down towards the cage clutched in her hand. Harry’s eyes lit up as he paid attention to it for the first time. He quickly relieved her of it, letting Heather’s arms relax a tiny bit. Harry was looking at Augustine with awe, to which the rat was making little chattering sounds, his nose twitching as he watched the boy. Harry moved to settle on the floor, and Heather followed suit, watching while he shakily opened the cage door. Augustine came out of his own accord, carefully crossing over the little bars like a bridge and climbing up on to Harry’s thigh.

“His name’s Augustine, and he’s a fancy rat,” Heather said, momentarily distracted from her previous mission of finding out what in the hell she was holding on to, “I found him after he built a sort-of ladder in his old cage out of toys and stuff and escaped. I knew he was perfect.”

She grinned at her own brilliance as Harry’s shocked look began to fade into a smile. Augustine looked over at her, and Heather said with a nod, “That’s Harry – he’s the one I told you about.”

Augustine took this in seriously, then turned back to Harry and let out a large squeak before climbing across Harry’s leg, up his arm, and onto his shoulder, where he licked the boy’s cheek with his tiny tongue. Harry laughed loudly and Heather smiled. Harry carefully offered his hand to the grey and white rat, who climbed off his shoulder and on to it willingly.

“That’s Scholastica,” Harry said, nodding at the thing curled into Heather’s chest. “Apparently she doesn’t like very many people…she did pretty much the same thing as me.”

A muffle _Mreow_! came from the ball of fur, and Heather tried tentatively to pull the animal away from her so she could see it. This time, the creature obliged.

It was a cat, Heather saw now, and she frowned as Scholastica turned away for a moment to throw a baleful look at Harry.

“I’m sorry!” Harry said defensively, “I didn’t know it would take that long!”

It was now Heather’s turn to laugh, and the look the cat gave her as she turned back to her – as if she were seconds from rolling her eyes – made her laugh even harder

“Told you you’d like her,” Harry said to the cat, who was meowing and butting her head under Heather’s chin.

His sister managed to calm her laughing down enough to say, “I told him the same thing!” as she nodded towards Augustine. Now the twins laughed together, and Scholastica quite obviously ignored them while soliciting more pets from Heather, while the rat clambered off Harry’s palm and scuttled around excitedly on his legs.

It took them a few moments to compose themselves, but then Heather leaned around her cat to gather Harry’s three wrapped presents and slide them towards him.

“Here,” she said, pushing the bag of Augustine’s things out of the way so she could settle down more comfortably, “You go first.”

Harry looked at the brown-wrapped parcels with their blue ribbons and laughed, then pushed Heather her items tied with their green ribbon, and she laughed as well. Harry then examined the three items before grabbing the one Heather knew to be the art pad. He unwrapped it quickly.

Harry’s eyes widened when he took in the handsome leather pad, reading the label that proclaimed every type of artistic medium that could be used in it – everything but acrylic paint, it seemed.

“It’s prefect!” he cried, and Heather grinned.

“I know,” she said cheekily, proud of herself.

“Your turn,” Harry said, setting the book down close beside him despite the urge he had to keep ahold of it. Heather scrutinized the three parcels before grabbing the one that Harry recognized as the calligraphy journal.

Heather smiled in delight as she realised what she was holding, looking over the tag tied onto it and then opening it (carefully, as she had to reach both of her hands around Scholastica to do so), where it lay flat just as advertised.

“I love it!” she said, and Harry smiled.

“I know,” he parroted back at her, and she tossed the scrunched-up brown wrapping paper at him.

“Now you again,” Heather insisted, nodding towards Harry’s things again. This time he grabbed one of the items instantly, and Heather knew it was the pencil set. When Harry opened it, his breath caught.

“This is amazing!” he managed, looking over all of the pencils and the assorted other items – noting the guidebook that came with it gratefully. He almost didn’t want to take his eyes off of it, but he forced himself to and saw his sister grinning smugly.

“You go,” he said, and Heather grabbed what Harry noted was the quill and ink set.

When Heather unwrapped it and opened the box, she gasped quietly. She ran her fingers over the amazingly detailed quills and looked at the various inks in excitement.

“It’s great, Harry!” she said, barely refraining from pulling out several of the items immediately. Harry smiled and mentally congratulated himself.

“Your turn,” she finally said, setting the box atop her calligraphy journal beside her. Harry grabbed the last item – the pastel set. Heather had a moment to remember that she had dropped it and wonder if it was broken before he unwrapped it and opened the box.

Harry gazed, open-mouthed into the box, looking at all the colours while Heather thanked her lucky stars that nothing was broken. Every colour of the rainbow plus about ten in between each of them were inside. Heather grinned at the star-struck look on her brother’s face, and grabbed her last item before he could remind her to – she had a feeling they both wanted to get everything open so that they could start using them as soon as possible.

Harry was in complete agreement when he managed to take his eyes off of his pastel set to watch his sister open her last item. The blue book fell out of its packaging and into Heather’s hands, and she flipped it over excitedly to read the gold-lettered title. Flipping through a few pages showed that it was, in fact, perfect for what she would need. She turned to grin at her brother, who was already smiling hugely back. At that moment, as if sensing their need to move, Scholastica and Augustine both jumped off of the children’s laps and onto the floor, with Augustine scampering back up into his cage and climbing into his wheel, and Scholastica leaping off the floor onto Harry’s dresser, where she began licking herself.

At once, both children scrambled forward to hug each other once again, excited.

“Thank you!” said Heather.

“Thank you!” Harry replied, and they both pulled back to grin for a second before they scooped up their presents and began the process of freeing them from their boxes and packaging.

 

An early but large dinner was had hours later, when the twins’ minds were ripped away from their new possessions by their growling stomachs and the realization that they hadn’t eaten anything but ice cream at all that day. Heather grabbed the animals’ food to take down with them, and Harry scooped up Augustine while Scholastica followed behind them down the stairs – there really wasn’t any question of leaving the animals behind, even if the sassy cat and escape-artist rat would have allowed it.

First, Heather picked out two large dishes for Scholastica, putting water in one and scooping a serving of her cat food into the other, while Harry grabbed two small cups for Augustine. The cat’s dishes were placed in the dining room floor, and after a moment they put the rat’s things down in the dining room as well – though on the table.

Now Harry and Heather made themselves dinner – a mish-mash of items, because they hadn’t actually planned out what they wanted to eat today. Heather made a fruit salad and some pasta, and Harry cooked some Brussels sprouts and warmed up a can of kidney beans – they had a large amount of canned food, and had discovered over the past few days that they really did like most beans.

Harry set the table while Heather finished up the pasta, grinning as he lit the candelabra again, just for the hell of it. He placed it about a foot down from Augustine and his food so that the wax – which really didn’t seem to drip much on the candles in their flat anyway – wouldn’t hit him.

Soon the pasta was done as well, and the children both dished up the noodles, Brussels sprouts, and beans on their plates, then spooned some of the fruit salad into a bowl for each of them. They sat down in front of the glimmering candles they had lit and blown out just hours before, with their two brand-new pets beside them, and tucked in to their first-ever birthday dinner.

This was most certainly the best day of their lives to date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/14/2018 - All chapters are being edited and re-uploaded at the moment. A new chapter should be out soon!


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